


To Get Back Home

by motorbike_on_the_avenue



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon Compliant, not sure where this is going, not who you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-02-26 14:03:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motorbike_on_the_avenue/pseuds/motorbike_on_the_avenue
Summary: Bronn has been sent to kill the Lannister brothers.But what kind of man would he be if he didn't at least offer them a chance to up Cersei's payment? The only thing he'll accept now is his own city, somewhere he can build his very own castle.The Dragon Queen is not prepared to give him want he wants, not for the sake of the life of a man she hates. But there might be another solution to their problem....Another who would do whatever it takes to protect Jamie. Another who has a whole isle to their name....





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. Two months ago I'd never watched an episode of Game of Thrones and then I was forced to watch all the seasons and whoops now I have another ship to add to the ever growing list. 
> 
> This idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I wanted to get the first chapter posted at least before the episode tonight, just because I think it's a perfect time for it to fit in. I usually prefer to write stories to the end before I post them, but the timing didn't quite work out, so forgive me for mistakes / if it seems a bit hit and miss.
> 
> Title comes from the vague idea I have of the ending but we will see. 
> 
> Also; no idea if this would even work, but my story, my rules I guess?
> 
> Enjoy!

‘She wants you to kill us.’ The words weren’t a question. Not with the crossbow pointed in his direction, not with Bronn's words still echoing in Tyrion's ears. His sister had sent someone to kill him and his brother.

‘Aye,’ Bronn said. One of his legs was thrown over the over, bent at the knee, the crossbow positioned on his lap, casually pointing at Tyrion. Tyrion eyed the weapon wearily. If Bronn decided to shoot – and Tyrion was still in two minds about whether he would or not – it would only take a second. Bronn's finger was loosely holding the release. One wrong move.

‘My sister has always had a sick sense of humour,’ Tyrion said. His fingers twitched, almost reaching for the wine glass at the edge of his desk; but Bronn might take his action for something else and then.. well that would be the end. ‘I suppose it’s a family trait.’ He smiled a little, but it wasn’t returned by the other man. This was too much. If it wasn’t for the fear creeping up his spine, Tyrion would lower his head and bang it against the desk a few times. He was still exhausted after the battle – everyone was. It had only been two nights ago after all. Two nights of little sleep, dogged by nightmares of blue eyes and wights, of people being torn to death in front of them, of the ones they couldn’t save. Either that or woken from a frightful sleep by the screams of people who had seen worse, done worse, lost worst. ‘We burnt the dead this morning,’ Tyrion said now. ‘It’s taken us this long to gather them all.’ The Queen wasn’t fit for much, still mourning the death of Ser Jorah. Most of the instructions over the past two days had come from Sansa. 

‘Aye,’ Bronn said again. ‘And that’s why I waited till now to show myself.’ 

‘Right, right, you were being respectful,’ Tyrion said. Another smiled crossed his face, but like all smiles over the past few years it died quickly. ‘I am curious. How did you find a way past all the guards?’ Bronn shrugged. 

‘Everyone was outside paying their respects. It was easy to sneak in and come up her. Took me a little while to find which room was yours, but I figured it out in the end.’ 

‘Not quite so respectful, using the burning as a way to get inside,’ Tyrion said. He'd come up to his rooms for a change of clothes. These ones were sooty with ash from the fires that had been burning all day, sticky with the sweat from the heat and the work they'd had to do to gather all their dead together and smelt all too much like things he'd rather forget. Queen Daenerys was insistent on a feast this evening, to celebrate the living. If Tyrion was going to be forced to be cheery – and he knew everyone would be looking to him for the wise cracking humour – he would at least like to be in clean clothes. Also, he thought wearily eyeing the crossbow again, he'd quite like to not be dead. He hadn’t noticed Bronn at first. Only when a lamp had flickered in the darkest corner, was the man exposed, weapon at the ready. The only thing that gave Tyrion any sense of pleasure right now, was wondering how long Bronn had been sitting there, waiting for Tyrion to return. 

‘A means to an end,’ Bronn shrugged. A sad sense of something passed over Tyrion. This man had once been someone he would have considered a friend. Of course, a friend wasn’t really somebody who could be lured away by a bigger pay off, but considering the only friend Tyrion had had before that was his brother, the sell-sword thing wasn’t really a factor. Had actually worked in his favour. Until his sister. Tyrion sighed. Cersei was always going to meddle in his life, it seemed. Maybe even have a hand in ending it. Bronn had told him the story after Tyrion had asked about the crossbow. Bronn setting out on a dangerous mission to come to Winterfell of his own accord, when everyone and their dragons had heard about the white walkers moving north, didn't fit. Bronn looked after himself, first and foremost. He might be up for a good battle now and then, but Tyrion had no doubt he'd never put himself out if there wasn’t a pay out at the end. 

‘And yet,’ Tyrion said, deciding to risk it, and reaching for his wine glass. Bronn's hand flexed a little, but the crossbow remained still. ‘You haven’t shot me. And I know Jamie is still downstairs. Why come here? Why talk to me? As you said, everyone’s attention was somewhere else this morning. You could have put a crossbow in either of us easily and probably hidden yourself well enough to finish the other one later.’ There were many places to hide now; everywhere was broken, bricks in piles around the once grand castle, trees uprooted, bits of wood scattered feet from where they should be. It would be very hard to find anyone in this mess, let alone spare enough bodies to look for anyone suspected of sneaking in. ‘I daresay if you'd shot Jamie first, The Queen would not have sent anyone to find you.’ The wine wasn’t great, but it was still wine and Tyrion sipped it gratefully. He never thought he'd be happy for even this piss, but he was. Funny how everything changed after a fight for your life. Even watching Bronn sitting there made Tyrion feel different. Petty squabbles and gold didn’t mean anything. ‘You would have had to deal with Ser Brienne and Pod looking for you, and she would probably tear down the few walls that remain looking for you, but you could have got to be very easily and ridden off back to Kings Landing before she found you. So why come to me at all?’ 

‘I told you before,’ Bronn said, ‘highest bidder. I've told you what I’ve been offered by your sister. Now I’m giving you the chance to match it or go higher.’ 

‘I’m a Lannister in name only now,’ Tyrion said, ignoring the flicker of disappointment in him at that. What did he care now for a castle he no longer knew the state of? For a home he wouldn’t find happy memories in? ‘I have nothing to offer you, and even if I did, I’m not sure what could match the gold Cersei has given you. If I had any small countries lying around, I promise you I’d be on them myself, instead of here in this freezing wasteland.’ He wasn’t sure the last part was true – he would be here. He was the Queens Hand, a job he enjoyed for a Queen he liked. He was back in the same place as his ex-wife, no longer the girl he'd wondered about over the years, but a woman now. He might have died – but at least he’d finally proven he was more than just a drunken whoremonger. Even if he did miss those days. 

‘You may not, but don’t tell me your little Queenie hasn’t got herself plenty of places. I’ve heard all the stories about her takeovers. I’m sure she doesn’t need all of those does she? I’m not greedy - I'll take whatever she’s willing to give.’ 

‘Oh, that’s all is it? A whole city for you to rule as you wish. With a castle I’m guessing,’ Tyrion asked. Bronn nodded. ‘I don’t think any of the places she took have castles,’ Tyrion said. Not ones she'd be willing to give up to Bronn. 

‘If I've got my own city I’m sure I can build one of my own,’ Bronn said. The flame next to him flickered, sending shadows across his face. For the first time since they'd met, Tyrion could see the murderer in him, the man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. ‘Just get me somewhere I can run off to, where your sister won’t be able to track me down. Get me a place I can be lord or whatever, where I call the shots. Get me that and you can have your life.’ 

‘The Queen won't just hand over one of the places she worked so hard to conquer,’ Tyrion said. He still didn’t really have any idea what Bronn was after – a place to run to? If that was what he wanted he should have boarded the nearest ship to Dorne he could find – or how to get him it. ‘And she certainly won’t give you anything to save my brother’s life.’ If anything, Tyrion thought, she'd probably give Bronn more gold to take it. Nobody would have to know, and she could get away with erasing her father’s murderer once and for all. 

‘What about you?’ Bronn asked. He learned forward, the crossbow now dangling from his leg, pointing at the floor. Tyrion felt his breath come the easiest it had this evening. ‘Are you telling me your Queen cares so little for you after all this time she wouldn’t even try to save you?’ Tyrion's eyes met Bronn's. There was nothing more for either of them to say. Bronn had laid his terms out; he was giving Tyrion what he could, and Tyrion grudgingly supposed he should be thankful. Most people would have just shot him and taken the gold. Whether it was really because Bronn wanted to see what he could get, or because some fondness from their years old friendship remained, Bronn was at least giving him a way out. And Bronn knew Tyrion would ask the dragon queen if there was anything she could give. He'd just survived the hardest battle anyone had ever fought for God’s sake! He would be an idiot to not even try to live his life now. To not even ask for it. ‘I'll be here, waiting,’ Bronn said. ‘You have two hours.’ 

‘And what if we just send guards up to arrest you?’ Tyrion asked, getting down from the desk. 

‘They'd have to catch me first. Two hours, Tyrion. I'll see you then.’ 

* 

‘He wants me to what? Hand over one of my cities for him to run? He must be deluded.’ Daenerys titled her head to the side. Tyrion, standing in front of her – and the Starks who seemed to have to attend every single meeting held in Winterfell – forced a smile to his face. He knew the situation would go like this. And yet his heart was sinking as he looked at his Queen. He could hide, but it was pointless. Bronn had a mission. He would fulfill it. ‘I don’t even know this man, and yet he thinks he can demand things of me? We’ll have him killed before the day is over,’ she said, dismissing the thought of Bronn with a flick of her hands. Two guards at the side of the room, left, clearly going to Tyrion’s chambers.

‘Your Grace, Bronn is smart. He might not seem it, granted, but he is. He managed to get here and avoid being turned, and sneak into my rooms. He’s survived this long.’ 

‘So, what do you want me to do? I refuse to give the man something he hasn’t earned and I especially refuse to do for someone when I don’t care if they live or die!’ This would be the part for a smart come back, but Tyrion’s words failed him. ‘Bronn is not a threat. He will hide, but we will find him. He will run and my dragons will get him. If not, we can hide you. We’re to set sail for Kings Landing tomorrow. I’ll station a guard outside your room. You can stay below on the ship, and have protection the whole stay there, until I take my throne. You will be protected; I assure you of that.’ 

‘And what of Jamie, Your Grace?’ Tyrion asked. ‘I can’t leave my brother here to die.’ 

‘Won’t Ser Jamie be going with you?’ Sansa Stark spoke for the first time, and Tyrion turned to face his wife. Ex-wife. He wasn’t quite sure at the moment. ‘The fight is won; there’s no reason for him to stay here now.’ 

‘I don’t believe there is any reason for him to return to King’s Landing, either, my Lady,’ Tyrion said. 

‘Surely he would want to be there, either to protect your sister or to watch her fall,’ Sansa said. Tyrion shot her a glance. One wrong word about his brother, and he wouldn’t have to worry about Bronn killing him. Daenerys would burn him herself if she thought he would try to get back to protect Cersei. 

‘Can we get back to the matter at hand,’ he said, turning from Lady Sansa to his Queen. ‘I have come to you with Bronn’s offer, and I can’t say I’m surprised you haven’t accepted. I will go back to him and tell him so.’ He almost added that he expected this to be the last time he saw them, but the words stuck in his throat. His Queen wasn’t one for sarcasm. ‘Bronn is a self-serving man, but he isn’t a stupid one. I’m sure we can come to some other agreement.’ 

‘You’re worried,’ Daenerys said. 

‘I don’t relish the idea of losing my life, no. But my sister will get what she wants one way or another.’ 

‘Your sister will get nothing she wants. Not if I have any say about it,’ Daenerys snapped. She frowned, the lines marring her pretty face. ‘I can’t give him my cities. I do not trust them in the hands of a sell-sword who would give them back to slavery if the right price came along.’ 

‘And I would not ask you to,’ Tyrion said. He sighed. ‘I came to you to tell you about him. And because I’d be a fool not to.’ The room settled into silence, and while Tyrion would like to think everyone was trying to think of a solution to help him, he doubted it. Bran wasn’t even looking at him, rather off to his left, Jon was staring to his right, and Tyrion would bet he hadn’t heard a word anyone had said. Something was going on with the bastard, but it was not Tyrion’s place to ask, not if Jon didn’t want to tell. Sansa and Arya were looking at him, but both their faces were filled with pity.  
They had nothing to offer.  
And no reason to offer it.  
This was getting ridiculous. Somebody needed a make a plan, and considering it was his life on the line, Tyrion supposed it had to be him.  
‘We don’t have enough soldiers left to guard us. Not ones who are still in fighting shape. And to ask someone to protect me and Jamie, just a few days after they’ve fought for their life...that wouldn’t be fair.’ 

‘There will be someone willing to help. Someone who’s a great fighter, who would be willing to...’ 

‘To what? Maybe die for me and my brother. Your Grace, I think you know there’s nobody who would be willing to risk their life for Lannister blood.’ 

‘That’s not exactly true,’ said Sansa, slowly. ‘I can think of one person who would be willing to protect you and your brother. Who’s a good fighter.’ The image of a large blonde woman, standing ready with her sword in her hand came to Tyrion’s mind. 

‘Yes,’ he said slowly, a new plan forming in his mind. ‘She might be just what we’re looking for.’ 

‘Except Lady Brienne was injured in the Battle,’ Sansa said, ‘she’s probably not up to protecting anyone at the moment, not until her wounds heal.’ It was news to Tyrion that Brienne had been hurt – let alone hurt badly. Nobody had come out of the battle completely whole, but more than he would have expected were dealing with only flesh wounds that would heal quickly. If she’d been hurt, it would explain why he hadn’t seen her around the past few days. It would also explain why, apart from a few minutes after the battle where they’d made sure the other wasn’t dead, or wounded too badly, Tyrion hadn’t seen Jamie about either. Jamie had had a bad head injury, and cuts and bruises but nothing more worrying. ‘We might not need her to protect us,’ Tyrion said. His eye’s met Sansa’s and he could see the understanding dawning in her eyes.  
‘I believe Brienne of Tarth, might provide more than one solution to our problem.’  
Maybe Tyrion would wait to seek out Jamie and warn him about Bronn.  
He had a feeling his brother wasn’t going to like this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me, I don't know where I'm going with this either :)
> 
> No, I'm kidding. I know it's a little strange and probably all over the place, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone, and now it's posted, I just want to finish it 
> 
> Enjoy!

Brienne of Tarth growled as she swung her legs out of the bed. She’d been ‘resting’ for two days now. That was enough. People needed her. Sansa needed her. Her Lady had much to decide in the aftermath of the battle, and she had to be there for her. Who knew who would sneak in while Winterfell mourned? All kinds of chancers would be banging on their doors given the opportunity and even now when the White Walkers were vanished, to turn anyone away would look heartless. 

The wound at the top of her right leg throbbed, then sent a pain so intense through her that Brienne saw stars. She fell back onto the bed, cursing the world itself. The only thing she was good at, and she wouldn’t be able to that for at least a few weeks. She needed a broken old stick if she even wanted to make it across the room, her hands gripping the top so tightly her knuckles turned white. 

‘Ser Brienne.’ The reprimand came from the door, and Brienne growled again. Not because of the pain this time, but because of the annoyance. 

‘Podrick, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t need checking up on every hour. I’m fine.’ 

‘With all due respect, Ser, you clearly are not.’ Podrick, her squire, shuffled into the room, bringing with him a small amount of something to help ease the pain. At least for a few hours. Enough that she would be able to get up and go around the castle without limping too much, anyway. 

‘I’m not appreciating the tone, Pod,’ Brienne said, taking what he’d given her. It took a while for the pain to abate, so she settled herself more firmly on the bed. 

‘Sorry, Ser.’ In spite of herself, Brienne found a small smile on her face. It was hard to be mad at someone you were so glad was still around. Ser Jamie had been right. He had come a long way, and she felt a little flicker of pride that it was because of her. She’d trained him, and here he was today, still standing. 

Unlike hundreds of others under her command, Brienne thought, the sadness that hadn’t really left snaking through her. She would have to get used to it. Already it felt like a weight she would never be free of. All those people – people she’d barely even known. 

But it wouldn’t do to dwell on the dead. They’d been doing that for far too long and The Queen had insisted on a celebration tonight. They were here. The people Brienne loved most were here. She had to focus on that. 

Another spasm of pain went through her. And her dammed leg! She’d been injured before, plenty of times. Injuries that took ages to heal, that made her black out and wish for death. 

This was the most irritating one she’d ever had. ‘You should rest,’ Pod said. 

‘I have been resting for two days. I watched you burn the dead from my window – don't tell me I shouldn’t have. It was the least I could do. I should have been out there, helping.’ 

‘The best thing you can do is get better.’ Brienne gritted her teeth. ‘My orders to make sure you rest.’ Brienne shot her squire a look. She was well aware of the orders Pod had been given. And by who. 

‘If Ser Jamie cared about his orders being followed, he would be here himself.’ The pain was becoming duller and Brienne pulled herself up. She couldn’t stand as straight as she would like; she still needed the assistance of the stick to lean on, which meant she had to crouch a little. 

‘He’s helping to clean up after the battle. They need everyone they can get. I think he’s hoping to prove himself to the Queen. Now the battle is over, he’s worried.’ Pod was fiddling around with the dirty bandages that Brienne had taken off herself this morning, putting them aside to be disposed of later. Brienne had managed to clean and change them herself, but apart from throwing them to the floor she hadn’t done anything else. She had needed a rest after that, which annoyed her even more. Even the most basic tasks took all her strength. 

‘About what?’ Brienne asked, frowning. Jamie Lannister worried. The words didn’t make sense in her head. Nor did the idea that he would let Pod know even if he was. 

‘They no longer need every man they can get. The White Walkers are defeated. The next battle lies in King’s Landing against his sister.’ 

‘Yes,’ Brienne said. 

‘He’s worried that The Queen will decide to execute him. She won’t let him back to King’s Landing, not if she thinks he might help his sister.’ 

‘I see,’ Brienne said. She turned back to the window, scanning the mess of people down on the ground. She wouldn’t admit to herself who she was looking for. 

‘You don’t think he’d go back to her, do you Ser Brienne?’ Pod asked, and Brienne was dismayed to hear a note of worry in Pod’s voice. Her, Jamie and Pod had fought together during the Battle of Winterfell. Pod had known Jamie first. Jamie had saved his life, making him her squire. She had no doubt he would have been killed had he stayed in King’s Landing. 

And he’d been a good squire. The best she could have hoped for, really. She’d grown fond of the boy. Grown to love him even, like a brother. 

‘I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,’ she said quietly. She didn’t want to lie to Pod. Not now. He should be prepared in case...well, both of them should be prepared. ‘I thought he might already be gone.’ 

‘No, Ser, I saw him myself this morning. He asked about you.’ Brienne pursed her lips. Pod was still watching her, his eyes running over her face, searching for something Brienne didn’t want anyone to see. 

‘He loves her. He came here to fight for the living and he’s done that.’ She stopped there, scared the fear would creep into her voice. In truth, she’d spent quite a long time trapped in this room, thinking about Ser Jamie. Apart from helping her to her chambers after the battle, and checking on her injures, then ordering Pod to take care of her, she hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t like him. Brienne thought he might have come, even if just to lord it over her. She’d been firm with him when he’d lost his hand. She thought seeing her like this, even if only for a little while, would bring him joy. 

He was avoiding her. She wasn’t stupid enough not to know that. And there was only one reason she could come up; that he was already planning to leave. He wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye, knowing that. Knowing he was going back to his sister, to fight the war against the dragon queen, not for her. He wouldn’t be able to lie to her; at least she didn’t think so. Not to her face, not if she asked him an outright question. ‘He does love her after all,’ she said, turning from the window. Her leg was feeling a lot better, but she knew the effects would only last for a few hours at most. She had to check on Lady Sansa. Check on Lady Arya, although she very much doubted she needed looking after. 

‘He did,’ Pod said simply. Brienne ignored him, limping over to the door. She knew herself well enough to recognise her feelings for Ser Jamie. 

She also knew enough about the world and how it worked to think anything other than pain, suffering and the loss of a tentative friendship would happen if she told anyone how she felt. She could admit to her feelings for Renly now – the crush of a silly little girl. And look how that had ended. This was much worse, and would only lead to even more heartbreak. 

‘He’s loved her for all his life, Pod,’ she said. ‘You don’t get over that.’ She turned the knob, pushing the door open, hearing Pod stand behind her and heft the dirty water she’d been using to wash her wound. 

She wasn’t expecting the party of people outside her door, the man in front looking like he was just about to knock. 

‘My Lord,’ she said, bowing to Lord Tyrion. ‘My Lady,’ she said, bowing to Lady Sansa. She eyed the woman critically, but Sansa appeared to be fine. 

‘Ser Brienne,’ Sansa said, ‘how are you? Your wounds are healing well, I take it?’ 

‘Indeed,’ Brienne said. She opened the door a bit wider, exposing the squire behind her. ‘Pod has been taking good care of me.’ 

‘I would expect no less,’ Tyrion said, entering the room, after Brienne had stood back and allowed the group to enter. There were a few of the Daenery’s men behind them, who stood to the side once everyone had entered. Brienne shut the door. It seemed she would not be leaving this room after all. ‘He was always an excellent squire.’ Him and Pod exchanged smiles, and Brienne saw them check each other over the injures. Pod had a cut on his face, but other than that he was good. 

Brienne tried hard not to wonder about how Pod had come through practically unharmed. She was supposed to be the seasoned fighter, the one thing she was good at. 

Still, in the moment of battle, even the best could be taken under. The wrong angle, a surprise attack from behind. If it hadn’t been for Jamie, Brienne would be dead ten times over. 

‘I was coming to find you, my Lady,’ Brienne said now. 

‘Is that wise?’ Sansa asked, eyeing the stick Brienne clutched in her hand. ‘I thought you were supposed to be resting.’ 

‘If I rest for the entire time this wound takes to heal, I will lose all muscle. And my sanity,’ Brienne said. She’d spent years travelling, and fighting, and now preparing for the biggest fight of her life. Even two days of rest felt like a luxury, one she was already starting to hate. 

‘Very well,’ Sansa said, a small smile crossing her face. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised.’ There was a silence in the room, unsettled and prickly. Brienne could feel the hair on her arms standing on end, like she could when she was about to face an enemy. 

That couldn’t be right. Not in this room, with these people. Lady Sansa had said she trusted her with her life. 

‘To what do I owe this visit?’ Brienne asked. Sansa was looking at her, her usual blank expression fallen away for one of pity. Nerves swooped in Brienne’s stomach. Her Lady never looked at her like that. Not since she’d taken her rightful place as the Lady of Winterfell, not even when she asked her to do things Brienne wasn’t on board with. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’ 

‘I’m afraid there is an awful lot you can do for us,’ Tyrion said, walking across the room, and settling into a chair pushed up against the wall. There wasn’t much room here, and with the four of them, plus the two guards, the space felt much too crowded. 

‘And an awful thing you must do,’ Sansa mumbled. Brienne shot her a quick look, but the woman would not meet her eyes. 

‘It’s not so bad,’ Tyrion said. He looked at Sansa again, seemed to remember something and added quickly, ‘depending on how you look at it.’ 

‘What is it you want me to do?’ Brienne asked. She hated games. Hated people who talked around the subject, instead of just getting to it. Such a waste of time. 

‘You lo...like my brother, don’t you Ser Brienne?’ Tyrion asked. Brienne turned to him. He seemed to be the one in charge here, and Brienne quickly remembered that he and Sansa were married. Maybe this was the case of the husband taking charge, although Brienne could not see any way in which Sansa would stand for that. ‘You vowed to fight next to him. You vouched for him. I cannot imagine anyone doing that, not if they didn’t have some respect for the man they were trying to save.’ 

‘I did,’ Brienne said. ‘I do.’ 

‘Would you do anything to protect him? To save him?’ Tyrion asked. Brienne opened her mouth, then closed it. Images of the battle played into her mind. Running across the battlements to get to him. Being taken down by an army of wights, so many she could no longer tell where they stopped, no matter how many she took down, and wishing her last image could be of Ser Jamie’s face, before the actual man himself had appeared before her, sword in hand, helping her back to her feet and they fought together. 

‘If it was within my ability,’ Brienne said, slowly. She supposed her loyalty was no secret, not when she’d stood in front of a room and told everyone she vouched for him. But still. This felt dangerously close to a line she did not want to cross. 

‘And how do you feel about me?’ Tyrion asked. ‘Actually, don’t answer that. It’s not important.’ 

‘If someone would please explain to me what is going on,’ Brienne said, ‘I might be able to give you an actual answer.’ She regretted her words – they had been harsher than she intended, and she looked to her Lady to make sure she hadn’t taken them in the wrong way. 

Sansa was staring out the window, almost like she was trying to put distance between herself and this cramped little room. Brienne didn’t blame her. She was aware that several of the rooms in Winterfell held terrible memories for the woman, and was struck again by the quiet bravery she showed, walking these halls every day where so many happy and awful memories must blur together. 

‘My sister,’ Tyrion began. ‘She has a twisted sense of humour. Extremely twisted.’ Brienne didn’t need to be told that. ‘She has paid a sell sword, who me and Jamie used to be friendly with to kill us.’ A sharp pain went through Brienne at the last two words. She knew something terrible must have gone down for Jamie to leave Cersei, even for a while. But for her to take a hit out on the person she was supposed to love? 

Things must have been worse than she thought, and she hated the small bud of hope that bloomed in her chest, at the thought. Jamie was free. Maybe. 

But even if was, it still didn’t mean Brienne had any chance with him. Not least because she would never tell anyone about her feelings. She hadn’t even admitted them to herself, not for years. Not until he’d ridden to Winterfell, and she’d vouched for him. She’d had to admit everything to herself then. 

‘And how can I help with this?’ she asked. She stared down at her leg, the heavy bandages bulking out her breeches even more than her muscles did. ‘I’m not much up for fighting at the moment.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. A few weeks, she reminded herself. A few weeks, and then she’d be back to her old self again. Then she’d be useful again. 

‘We don’t need you to fight,’ Tyrion said, gently. ‘Bronn -,’ at this, Pod made a little noise, but everyone ignored him. ‘- has been promised a lot of gold.’ Brienne remembered Bronn. They’d not had much to do with each other, that was true, but she’d felt his stare a few times when they were in the same room. She knew he was curious. About what being with a woman like her would be like. Curiosity was the only reason men looked at her with lust in their eyes. And she wasn’t stupid enough to provide them with answers. ‘In true Bronn fashion, he is offering to tell my sister where to go, providing we offer him something else. Something more.’ 

Brienne snorted. ‘If you think an eligible maid is worth more to him than the gold, I’m sure your sister has offered, you will be disappointed. Especially once he realises it’s me.’ 

She swore, she was going to run a sword through the next person that looked at her with that pitying stare on their faces. Even the two guards in the corner of the room were doing it. She held her head higher, straightening herself to her full height. She didn’t need to put weight on her stick if she was standing still. 

‘As much as I’m sure Bronn would appreciate the novelty of a maiden,’ Tyrion said. A blush rose in Brienne’s cheeks. How had she come to be standing in a room, discussing her maidenhood? Not by her choice, she was sure of that. ‘That’s not all you can offer a man.’ 

For a few seconds she stared into Tyrion’s eyes, looking down at the man sitting below her. She got it. Why she was the only person in Winterfell they could offer to Bronn to make him forget Cersei’s gold. 

‘Tarth,’ she said. Tyrion nodded. 

‘Yes. I am sorry, Ser Brienne. I know it is a terrible thing we must ask of you.’ Sansa shot him a quick look, and he hastily added ‘I must ask of you. But I must ask it. I have no doubt that Bronn would do as my sister asks if we cannot come up with something to match it. He’s always wanted his own castle, and we have taken that from him. A few times, if I recall correctly. We have no other option than to offer him your hand in marriage, and hope it’s enough. I believe when your father dies, you will be the ruler on Tarth?’ 

‘I will,’ Brienne said. Her brother had died many years before. 

A calm was settling over Brienne. A lot of worries she had pushed to the back of her mind seemed to be smoothing out. ‘I once swore that I would only marry a man who could beat me in a fight,’ she said. 

‘Bronn is not a sell sword for nothing. He does not demand the highest prices for nothing either.’ 

‘I’ve seen him fight,’ Brienne said. ‘He’s good.’ A hopeful look crept over Tyrion’s face, and even Sansa looked surprised. Pod was staring between the three of them, like he couldn’t quite understand what was going on. 

‘Does this mean you accept? I don’t have to tell you that you will be saving my brother’s and my life, and that though we have little to offer you, us Lannister’s always pay their debts.’ 

The thing was...Brienne wasn’t getting any younger. And neither was her father. As much as she tried not to think about it, soon she would have to travel back home to take up the role she was born to perform. To take over from her father. She would be expected to marry. To produce heirs. 

One day, Lady Sansa would not need her any more. Truthfully, Brienne thought the Lady did not want her around much to begin with, but she was determined to honour her oath to her mother. She would not leave, not until she had to. 

And when that day came, there would be nobody left to serve. She couldn’t just pledge her services to anyone. No, Brienne had decided that on that day, she would travel home to Tarth to do her duty there. She would have to forgo her once promised ‘beaten in battle’ stance, and find a man who would marry her. Who wouldn’t be so disgusted by her that they could do what needed to be done in order to produce at least one heir. Even if Brienne had always secretly hoped for a big family – that was a dream she’d long ago put away. 

‘There would be no debt to pay,’ Brienne said. ‘If anything, you may be doing me a favour.’ 

‘How so?’ Tyrion asked. 

‘If Ser Bronn accepts your offer, I doubt he would want to go back to King’s Landing and face your sister.’ 

‘Indeed, that would be a stupid move,’ Tyrion said. 

‘He could set sail for Tarth at once. I could send my father a raven, to inform him my husband would be coming to learn from him. He’d be delighted to learn I’d finally married.’ 

‘And then what?’ Pod asked. ‘Would you go back to Tarth, too, Ser?’ 

‘If Ser Bronn was my husband, would I need to?’ Brienne mused. ‘No doubt he’d be relieved that we wouldn’t need to pretend to keep up appearances. He’d get to be safe on my isle, and I could remain here, doing what needs to be done.’ Her eyes went to Lady Sansa, but if she was still listening to the conversation, she showed no signs of it. 

‘He could learn about Tarth without me needing to be there. And if something should befall while I’m here, Tarth would pass to him. He’d be free to marry whichever woman he’d like, and raise a family.’ 

‘And what about if you return to Tarth?’ Tyrion asked, alarm written on his face. ‘Do not count your demise as if it is something that has already happened.’ 

Brienne shrugged. 

‘My Lord, if I returned to Tarth, all that is required is one heir. I’m sure Ser Bronn is curious enough to help me.’ 

‘He did once tell me he’d fuck you,’ Pod said, blushing when everyone turned to look at him. ‘Sorry.’ 

‘I do not care that he would make use of the brothels, and I do not think he would care if I stayed here and did my duty.’ 

Really, Brienne thought, this was probably the best she could ever hope for. A man who would do his duty, and yet not demand that his wife produce heirs straight away. And while she didn’t think Bronn would be sad if she did perish before she could return to Tarth, she also didn’t think that he would take a hit out on her, and make her demise come any earlier than whatever the Gods had in store for her. 

‘Ser Brienne, are you quite sure this is what you want?’ Lady Sansa turned from the window, to look into the eyes of her sworn sword. ‘An arranged marriage can be a dreadful thing, and I hate that we’ve had to come to you.’ Her eyes flicked to Tyrion. ‘If I thought we had another option, I wouldn’t even have entertained this idea, but the dragon Queen refused point blank to even hand over one of her cities. And I can’t let people I care about die.’ A sliver of distain shone through the words, and Tyrion’s frown deepened a little, but nobody said anything. 

‘My Lady,’ Brienne said, ‘this is probably the best I can ever hope for. And I cannot let people I care for die either.’ A pang shot through her. But this was for the best. If she were married, she could firmly put those stupid, ridiculous, childish, girlish dreams about Ser Jamie Lannister aside. She would have to, for the sake of her husband. She would not be disloyal to him. 

Even if she did not require the same from them. ‘I accept. You may take the offer of the marriage to Ser Bronn, in the hope that he will spare your and your brother’s life.’ 

‘Isn’t there something else we should be considering?’ Pod asked. He’d finally put the water down, the bloodied tissues floating on the top like ugly flowers. ‘What does Ser Jamie have to say about this idea?’ 

Brienne shot a look at her squire. 

‘Ser Jamie does not know that Bronn is here yet,’ Tyrion admitted. Brienne masked her surprise. She would have thought seeking his brother out would be the first thing Tyrion would do. There was a threat on his life – shouldn't he at least be forewarned? 

Brienne vowed that after this meeting, the first thing she would do would be to find Ser Jamie. She would allow herself to look upon him one more time, before her marriage. Then she really would have to put a stop to her thoughts. One last look, to etch his face into her memory. 

At least she would have that. Most people never knew it would be the last time. ‘He does not know that my sister has tried to sign his death warrant.’ 

The unspoken words were there, and Brienne, even though she had pledged to offer her hand to a man she barely knew just a few minutes before felt the crushing weight sweep over her. 

Jamie loved another, had always loved another, would always love another. She doubted even finding out about Bronn would diminish his feelings. If anything, would it not make him want to go back, to face her, to confront her? 

To fight for her. 

‘I still don’t think Ser Jamie will be on board with this plan,’ Pod said. 

‘Why would he not be?’ Sansa asked. ‘Ser Brienne is giving up a great deal to save his life. He should be grateful.’ There was obviously still tension between the older Lannister and Lady Sansa. 

‘Well...because...’ Pod trailed off, his last mumbled words caught by no one, but his questioning gaze still on Brienne. 

She felt herself blush again. Obviously, Jamie would think that Ser Bronn was marrying beneath him. Oh, she didn’t doubt that Ser Jamie respected her, but there was no getting around her looks. He’d mentioned them several times when they’d first met, and while both their thoughts on the other had changed, if anything her looks had only gotten worse. 

‘I’m sure whatever objections Ser Jamie has, he will get over them,’ Brienne said, turning away. She needed to be out of this cramped room. She’d spent too much time in here over the past two days. She’d just sealed her entire future. ‘I need some air. Please excuse me, my Lord, my Lady.’ 

Brienne left the room, hobbling down the hallway, the five people she left, staring after her. 

‘Jamie’s going to hate this, my Lord,’ Pod said. ‘Surely you’re not blind to the way they feel about each other?’ 

‘I am not, Pod,’ Tyrion said, hopping down from the chair. ‘But I was all out of options. Ser Brienne’s isle is the only thing that may save my life.’ 

‘What do we do now?’ Sansa asked. She’d only come because she thought someone would need to be there to be in Brienne’s corner. The woman had done a lot for Sansa, and in some small way she thought she could pay her back. 

She’d been as much use as she usually was, she felt. Unable to stop anything, the minutes running away until things had been decided that Sansa felt like she should object to. 

But if this was the only way to save Tyrion....and if Brienne truly didn’t mind.... 

‘Bronn only gave me a short while to bring him my offer,’ Tyrion said. ‘I suppose that leaves me just enough time to track down my brother tell him the good news. We shan’t be killed. At least, not today.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....that was a fun episode wasn't it 
> 
> At least there's fanfiction

‘And what the fuck do I want with Tarth?’ Bronn was sitting in the chair opposite Tyrion again, crossbow in place. Tyrion wondered how Bronn had managed to go about Winterfell, lugging that thing, without being noticed. 

Maybe he was giving the sell sword too much credit. Bronn in all likelihood had been noticed. But everyone was too busy with their own survival these days, and in truth Tyrion could think of very few people who would challenge a man carrying a crossbow with a deadly look in his eyes. The Lords and Ladies of Winterfell were protected at all times. Much better to get on with the jobs you'd been given, and leave a potential threat for someone else to deal with. ‘Tarth already has a ruler as far as I know. And an heir. That leaves me being someone else’s subject again.’ 

‘You'll be married to the heir of Tarth,’ Tyrion said. ‘Ser Brienne has agreed that after the wedding you can set sail for your new home straight away. She'll send a raven to her father informing him of the marriage and say that you are coming to learn about being the Evanstar from him, while she does her duty here. Once her father has passed, no matter when that might be, you will remain on Tarth as their leader, no matter what may befall Brienne.’ 

‘And the lady knight is happy with this, is she? Giving her isle over to a man like me?’ 

Tyrion shrugged. ‘She seemed quite pleased with the arrangement. Truth be told, I think she’s been looking for a way out of her heritage for some time. A husband who would have no problem with her not being by his side, who won’t demand she perform her wife’s duties as soon as they marry, who she can't be hurt by because she has no feelings for him, who could probably if not beat at least match her in a sword fight....as much as she seemed like a solution to my problem, she seemed to think you were a great one to hers.’ 

‘Did she now?’ Bronn asked, leaning back in his chair his finger relaxing on the crossbow. If Tyrion were a braver man, he might launch himself forward, tackle Bronn to the ground and wrestle the crossbow from him, before shooting him in the chest and putting an end to the problem once and for all. 

But Tyrion was not that stupid, or that noble. As much as he hated the idea of forcing someone into a marriage, someone he liked as well as he could like anyone, as much as chaining Ser Brienne to Ser Bronn sent shudders down his back, he wanted to live. And she was all he had to offer. 

‘Granted, she hasn’t spent much time with you, but since she doesn’t plan to, I don’t think her feelings on the matter will change.’ A quick flare of anger that Tyrion rarely felt flashed through him. His sister always wiggled herself between Tyrion and anything that might cause him even the slightest bit of happiness. Having a friend was something he had never had. She’d got to him too, in a way that meant Tyrion would never be able to think of Bronn in the same way. Now, he’d always think of him with a sick sense of guilt as he wondered about his wife. 

‘And what about her feelings for others?’ Bronn asked. ‘I’m not stupid. I see the way her and your brother look at each other. Why would she agree to marry me, when she’s clearly in love with him? And for that matter, what did he have to say when you told him about me, and how you planned to bargain for your life? I’m surprised he’s not here with a sword right now, ready to fight for her honour.’ 

Tyrion’s wine glass was empty, and he stared at it, unhappily. He’d forgotten to bring more to his rooms, not when the weight of Bronn was pressing heavily on his mind, and he couldn’t send for more. 

‘I believe Ser Brienne is not willing to accept that Jamie might have feelings for her,’ Tyrion said slowly. He’d watched her face in her rooms earlier, as they laid their badly thought out plan to her. Her eyes had seemed far away, almost like she was thinking of another. Tyrion wasn’t stupid. He’d known for a while how the two knights felt about each other. He was planning, someday, if the chance ever presented itself to nudge them together, with his words and wine. He’d waited a long time to see his brother happy. 

It seemed he would have to wait a while longer. ‘And I do not believe that anyone has seen to inform her otherwise.’ He frowned. Damn everything that had led him to this! ‘As for my brother...he has not yet been informed about this arrangement.’ Although he’d wandered around Winterfell all day, Tyrion had not found his brother. 

He’d checked all the obvious places for him, of course. Checked the places where work needed doing, where people were waiting for instructions, anywhere a one-handed fighter in good condition might be. But Jamie seemed not to want to be tracked down, not by anybody, and Tyrion who hadn’t been relishing the idea of the talk they needed to have, had taken his time, stopping to chat to those he passed, gathering updates for the Queen, and the Lady of Winterfell. Before he knew it, shadows were falling across the grounds, and the cold was picking up as night fell. People were making their way inside for the feast, and Tyrion had made his way back to his rooms. ‘Jamie will be fine. He will realise this is our only option.’ 

‘I haven’t accepted it yet,’ Bronn said. ‘In truth, I was hoping for something more. What do I want with a wife?’ 

‘According to Pod, you have expressed interest in the Maid of Tarth before now,’ Tyrion said. ‘And you were engaged before, were you not? She won’t be a wife in the usually sense, that’s true, but she did mention the brothels on Tarth, and that she wouldn’t mind if you made use of them. This seems to me to be the only way for you to have everything you’ve ever wanted, Bronn. You can run from here, leave the fighting. You can have your own place, even learn the ropes from someone so you don’t lose it all within the first six months. Tarth is not one of the places like the ones left here, the people confused as to who their leader is. Who knows where any of those places might end up in the coming months, which Queen their loyalty is pledged to, who their leader might become?’ Tyrion swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. ‘Ser Brienne mentioned that she intends to stay here and protect the Stark girls as long as she can. If she dies in the line of duty...Tarth would fall to you.’ The idea of such a place, untouched by the fighting this world had been caught in for years, left to someone like Bronn...well Tyrion had never wished for Ser Brienne’s death, but now he hoped with all his heart that she would survive. 

‘And this is the best you have to offer?’ 

‘Which part isn’t enough for you?’ Tyrion snapped, his anger reaching the surface. ‘Tarth is better than what my sister had offered. Either you take it, or you might as well shoot me now.’ Tyrion spread his arms wide, wishing he could close his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the bow coming towards him. He knew Bronn. He wouldn’t put it past him to shoot him just because he’d spoken to him like that. 

The seconds passed, and neither of them moved. Tyrion could almost see Bronn’s brain ticking, wondering if there was anything more he could get out of this deal. 

‘I accept,’ Bronn said, eventually, and the crossbow dropped to the floor, as he stood. ‘But I’m not being fucked around, not again. This wedding happens tomorrow, or I promise, both you and your brother will be dead before the night is over. Got it?’ Tyrion nodded once. ‘Good. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be turning in for the night. Send one of the messengers to find me tomorrow morning telling me where to be. They’ll be able to track me.’ He nodded once at Tyrion as he left the room, only bending to pick the crossbow up as he left. Tyrion would almost swear he was whistling. 

A day. He had one day to plan and inform all the relevant parties about the wedding that was to take place tomorrow. 

He would tell Lady Sansa and Ser Brienne first. And then...then, gods, he really supposed to needed to find his brother. There was no way the wedding would go ahead without Jamie hearing about it. 

Tyrion just wasn’t that lucky. 

* 

‘Tomorrow?’ Brienne said. Lady Sansa nodded, her eyes travelling around the small room. Brienne had been back hours now, choosing not to attend the feast downstairs. Her head had started to swim again, and she knew she needed rest. Her wounds would heal quicker if she didn’t overdo it. 

‘Lord Tyrion has informed me. He asked if I could tell you. He has other things to do.’ Lady Sansa’s mouth twisted a little at the side, and Brienne nodded. No doubt there were many things he needed to do. ‘Ser Brienne, are you sure this is what you want?’ 

Brienne withheld her snort of laughter at that. What she wanted was always going to be different from what she had. She didn’t want to be ugly, but she had long since come to terms with it. She’d wanted to be pretty and look nice in dresses, and have boys look at her with love in their eyes. 

She was never going to have that, she knew. She pushed the thought of green eyes to the back of her mind where they belonged. It hadn’t been love Jamie looked at her with. 

‘This is what I must do, to make sure I can do what I want,’ she said instead. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, Lady Sansa pacing the small room. Her Lady was never this far above her. ‘I have vowed to protect you and your sister and I won’t break that vow. If I were to ever get married, I might have to. If, and gods hope this isn’t for the longest time, my father was to pass, I’d have to leave and go back to Tarth. This way, I can send someone in my place. And while I might not trust Ser Bronn, I think I rely on him not to murder my father. Not if he’s got what he wants, anyway.’ Brienne made a mental note to send a raven to her father’s advisers, and ask them to keep an eye on her new husband. She didn’t think he would murder her father...but she’d be a fool to not ask for extra protection. 

Just in case. 

‘I hate that I have to ask you to do this,’ Lady Sansa said, finally stopping her pacing. ‘But I don’t trust Ser Bronn not to go through on his promise, not to murder Lord Tyrion and Ser Jamie. I can’t say I would mind that much if Ser Jamie were to...’ Lady Sansa stopped herself and cleared her throat. ‘Lord Tyrion has always been good to me and as the Lady of Winterfell, I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I were to let two of my guests be murdered, without doing what I can to stop it.’ 

‘Lady Sansa,’ Brienne said, pulling her stick near, and forcing herself to stand up, ‘do not feel bad about this. I understand, with your history how you feel about being forced to marry. I understand this must be hard for you, but I assure you, I know my own mind.’ 

Lady Sansa looked at Brienne, assessing her sworn sword. She knew no matter what she said Brienne would not change her mind. 

‘Then I must leave you now,’ Sansa said. ‘There is much to be arranged if we are to have a wedding tomorrow. The people will be pleased. It will give them something to look forward to. Even if they don’t know the true circumstances, a wedding is usually something to be celebrated.’ A shadow crossed over Sana’s face as memories and stories swirled through her brain. 

‘Oh, no, please my lady,’ Brienne said, her words tripping over themselves. ‘I don’t want a big fuss. Really. Just me and Ser Bronn, the Septon to marry us. And if you and Lord Tyrion would be there as witnesses, I’m sure that would be enough.’ A horror was arising in Brienne at the thought of the wedding Lady Sansa would stage. There would be another feast. Hundreds of people watching her. Watching her marry a man she didn’t love, or even really like, watching as he tied himself not to a pretty Lady, or a whore he’d accidently got with child, but to her. Brienne the beauty. 

Brienne did not want that. 

‘If you’re sure,’ Sansa said. Then she smiled. ‘Well, I insist on making you a dress, at the very least. It’s really all I can offer you, and all you deserve.’ 

An answering smile rose to Brienne’s lips, although she dreaded the idea of wearing a dress, even more so than having people watch her get married. She’d seen some of her Lady’s designs before of course, and while she had to admit they were beautiful, she didn’t believe there was any well-made garment that could make her so. 

‘Then I accept. Thank you, my lady,’ Brienne said, bowing. 

‘I will leave you to rest.’ Sansa left the room, and Brienne fell back down to her bed, her thoughts whirling. She was to get married tomorrow. 

She hadn’t been able to get as far as she’d like to around the castle today. She’d had to stop for a rest every half hour or so, and had never seen Ser Jamie. She would have to make the effort tomorrow. 

Although, she mused, maybe it was better this way. A clean break. 

She was to marry Ser Bronn of the Blackwater tomorrow, and she would be loyal to him. 

She settled herself under the furs, the fire cackling merrily behind her, sending her into a fitful sleep. She only hoped that her dreams would be as loyal to her future husband, as she was determined her thoughts would be from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all want Jamie's reaction....but next chapter, I promise :)


	4. Chapter 4

Jamie Lannister threw another piece of broken wood to the side, stood up and wiped his brow. He’d been at the destroyed stables for most of the day, heaving the wood across into piles ready for burning. He wasn’t a builder, but he could do the heavy lifting as it were. He wasn’t useless.

The group of men he had been working with were giving him a wide berth. They’d all started on the other side to him. Their voices and their jokes and their scratchy laughter that cut short traveled over to him, but he ignored it. He had too many other thoughts swirling through his mind.

His gaze traveled to the wall nearest to him, most of it blocked by the what remained of the castle. He liked to think that if he squinted a little, he could make out a certain window where he’d left an injured knight two days ago. He’d be safe from her here. Safe from blue eyes searching his face that felt like they were looking for something Jamie himself was only just coming to terms with.

He’d been fine! Yes, he knew there was a certain something he felt for Brienne, something a little more than friendship. He knew he would defend her; but he’d do that for Tyrion, the one healthy relationship he’d ever had. He hadn’t ridden to Winterfell, to be near her; he’d ridden here to make good on his promise to fight for the living. To fight for his sister and their unborn child.

And then, in the crushing of the battle, in the sweat of the flames, in the pressure of the dead bodies crowding him, he’d found his mind filled with nothing but Brienne. He’d kept one eye out for her at all times, hacking his way towards her when he saw her go under, glad he could still pretend she survived when he thought he was about to get taken down, only to see her face above him as she slashed those who would turn him, heard her screams at his back as their swords slashed and danced through the air. Hers were the first eyes he’d sought when the dead had collapsed around them, the calming blue making his heart feel steadier than it had for hours.

He loved her. It had snaked his way around his body and he stood looking at her, taking her in. As he’d pushed his way towards her, a frown on his face as she leaned over, gasping with the pain of a wound in her leg.

He was grateful for that wound, which made him feel guilty. She needed rest, which meant she wouldn’t be around the castle. There would be no chance of bumping into her, of being caught unawareness by her presence. He was afraid he would just blurt his feelings out.

And he wasn’t sure how Brienne would react. She liked him. Well enough to vouch for him, obviously. Something she could potentially have lost her life for.

Sometimes, he thought she might feel the same. He felt her gaze on him, caught the questioning tilt of her head. Saw her blushes as he met her gaze, or said something he knew she was quietly pleased with.

If he told her – and he would have to at some point, he knew it. The words were building up inside him every day – he would have to craft it in some way where there could be no doubt that he meant what he said. He’d have to do something to prove it to her. To make her believe.

‘Lannister, you coming?’ One of the men he’d been working with popped his head over the pile of wood they’d been clearing all day. ‘The feast is about to start.’

A cold wind was blowing through their small group now, cooling their sweat. Jamie hadn’t noticed the darkening sky, too focused on his feelings and the work that needed to be doing. He’d only taken short breaks to eat, or piss, or to approach Podrick when he saw him walking about the castle to inquire about Brienne’s health.

The squire had seemed nervous around him, refusing to meet his eye, and hurrying away from their conversation as quickly as possible.

‘Of course,’ Jamie said now. He waited a moment for the others to start moving towards the castle. He had no intention of going to the feast. Who knew what would happen under the influence of drink? He wasn’t even sure if Brienne would be attending the feast, not in her state, but he didn’t want to risk it. It had been a while since he’d had wine – it would surely make his lips loose, and his words flow freely.

A member of the Dragon Queen’s guard hurried from the courtyard over to them, scanning their faces. Jamie averted his gaze, his heartbeat gathering speed. This was it. They’d finally come for him. They didn’t need him to fight anymore, and they were going to execute him before he could go back to his sister and fight for her, something Jamie had no intention of doing.

Cersei had created her own mess, and through sometimes when he was struggling to sleep Jamie wondered about her, the crippling pain he felt was more to do with their unborn child, than about his sister. But would bringing another child into this world be the honorable thing to do? If you believed in the Gods – and Jamie wasn’t sure he did, not anymore – their previous children and their deaths could be seen as a punishment for his and Cersei’s sins. Would trying to protect another child just lead to the same misery and heartbreak?

Jamie’s dreams had changed lately. He no longer woke in a cold sweat with wildfire burning behind his eyes, with the faces of Joffery or Myrcella as they took their final breaths, of Tommen’s broken body. He knew those images would be etched into his brain until the day he died.

Now he dreamed about jumping into a bear pit too late, of listening to a Maid’s screams as he sat and said nothing, as the wights took her down, over and over, until he was glad to wake gasping for air, until he found his feet carrying him around the castle so he could pause outside her door, listening to the quite snores coming from inside.

The guard approached the group in front of Jamie, who’d stopped walking as they did. He didn’t want to overhear what was going on...but he didn’t want to draw their attention to him either.

‘I’ve been told that you’re the fellows that can help,’ said the guard, keeping his voice low. ‘The Lady of Winterfell requires cloth. Lace she said, and silk, and whatever else you can get your hands on. She said that you moved all the fabric you could find to a safe place yesterday. Kept it out of the cold?’

Two of the men nodded, and the rest of the group slinked away. Jamie stayed where he was. Lady Sansa was making clothes at a time like this? Her castle still needed repairing, but somehow he couldn’t imagine her sitting in her room, making curtains for windows when whole parts of walls had been burned away. ‘She said she needs it urgently, as soon as you can take it to her rooms.’

‘The feast is supposed to be starting soon,’ said one of the men, a note of longing in his voice. ‘Why does she require fabric so urgently?’

The guard looked around, and Jamie ducked on the pretense of picking something from the ground, covering his head with his hood as he did so. He wasn’t close enough that they’d think he was listening in, but he wanted to make sure.

‘The rumour is that there is to be a wedding tomorrow night,’ said the guard, his voice low. ‘Lady Sansa is making the dress for the bride.’

A wedding? In the middle of two wars? Well, Jamie thought, you had to hand it to them. The Dragon Queen and Jon Snow were going to get married. He supposed it made sense. That way nobody could doubt their love or go on about loyalty. They’d be a team.

That Lady Sansa was making the dress was a surprise. He’d noticed there was no love between Lady Sansa and the Queen who had claimed her brother’s heart. Maybe this was her way of making it up to her. To thank her for bringing her army to Winterfell, her dragons, her advisers.

‘A wedding? Don’t we have other things to be dealing with right now?’ grumbled the other man.

‘From what I hear, this isn’t the most conventional wedding. Rumour has it the bride wants no one but the Lady Stark and the Lord Lannister there to witness it.’

Well, it wasn’t like Jamie had been expecting an invite. But why would Tyrion be there? Sure, he was the Queen’s Hand, but didn’t Daenerys have others? What about the girl she’d traveled here with – she was rarely seen without her. Wouldn’t she want her to be with her as she married the man she loved?

‘Not that I blame her,’ said the guard, a chuckle rising in his voice. ‘If I looked like her, I wouldn’t want anyone to see me marry either.’ A cold chill that had nothing to do with the lightly falling snow settled into Jamie’s bones. ‘I don’t know what the Lady Stark thinks she can do with any fabric that will make that Lady Knight look like a bride. She’s not a miracle worker.’

There was some more chuckling, and more details exchanged, but Jamie’s mind had shut down. There was only one Lady Knight. He’d made her himself.

Brienne. Ser Brienne of Tarth...was getting married?

It had to be to that wilding fellow, Jamie thought. He’d worn her down, or promised her something, and Brienne, sweet Brienne who believed that she was nothing to look at, who thought she’d never be able to have anything better, was going to settle for him.

Jamie stood suddenly, not caring that his hood left his head. He marched past the group of still chuckling men, wishing he had time to punch them all, but figuring it could wait till later. Brienne had led them, had proven she was worthy of being a Knight, and yet still they mocked her.

She deserved their respect.

Jamie scanned the courtyard, searching the faces of everyone scurrying past him. He wouldn’t make it to Brienne’s room, not with this anger burning through him. Confronting her was a bad idea. He’d shout and insult as was his default. Gods, no wonder she’d never thought he’d have feelings for her; but to go this far? To marry the wilding, without knowing that she had choices, that she had a man who loved her, more for who she was, than for what she looked like...he couldn’t let her go through with it.

That much he was certain of.

As Jamie made his way into the castle, he seized the back of someone who he was sure could answer his questions. He slammed Podrick against the wall, only slightly regretting his rage when the boy stared at him with wide nervous eyes.

‘Ser Jamie,’ Pod squeaked out. He cleared his throat, his eyes scanning Jamie’s face. A resigned look came over him then. ‘You heard.’

‘Damn right I heard,’ Jamie growled. ‘Question is why didn’t you tell me? You obviously knew when you saw me this morning.’

‘Well, to be honest, Ser, I was worried you’d react like this,’ Pod said. A beat, and then Jamie dropped his arm from the boy’s neck. It wasn’t Pod’s fault. ‘It’s none of my business what Ser Brienne has agreed to.’

‘Agreed to?’ Jamie said, his thoughts tumbling around. A wedding was obviously on the cards; but why would Brienne have agreed to it? If it wasn’t her own idea...then who’s was it? And why had she agreed?

What could she possibly get out of this?

‘Ser Jamie, I think you should talk to your brother,’ Pod said. It was the gentleness of his voice that broke something inside Jamie. He spoke like this was going to go ahead whatever.

‘Tyrion?’ Jamie asked, stupidly, like he had another brother somewhere in Winterfell. ‘What can Tyrion possibly have to do with Ser Brienne getting married?’

‘I suggest you ask him,’ Pod said. He nodded at someone behind Jamie, and then slipped from between Jamie and the wall, and practically ran to the hall where the feast was just getting started.

Jamie turned, his eyes seeking his brother out. Tyrion was standing in front of him, a long sigh leaving his mouth as he took in Jamie’s face.

‘We should go somewhere quieter,’ Tyrion said, turning and leading the way back out of the castle. ‘This discussion will not be one to have in public.’

Wordlessly, Jamie followed his brother, fueled by a range of emotions. As they passed by the outside castle walls, Jamie raised his gaze to scan for a certain window. He liked to think there was a shadow in the window as they passed underneath. That she could feel him down here.

He wouldn’t let her go through with this. He was here for her.

He hoped she knew that.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Damn,’ said Tyrion as he and Jamie entered his rooms. ‘I forgot to call for more wine.’ He frowned at the empty cup on his table. Everybody was their way to the feast, and though he could probably track down someone to get wine for him, he very much doubted now was the time. 

He’d have to go through with this. Sober. 

‘Forget the wine,’ Jamie said. His brother was standing in the middle of the room, his eyes fixed to Tyrion’s face. ‘What did Pod mean when he said I should talk to you?’ 

‘That depends on what else he told you,’ Tyrion said. He found it hard to believe that his former squire would sell him out; but then he’d spent longer with Brienne, than he had with him. It wasn’t hard to understand that his loyalties had changed, that he’d do anything to protect her. 

‘Pod told me nothing,’ Jamie said. ‘I overheard that the Lady Stark requires material to work on a wedding dress for a Lady Knight. Unless I’m much mistaken, there’s only one of them.’ 

Tyrion inclined his head to agree. He had much more pressing issues to deal with, but his mind kept flashing back to that night. To see someone so happy amid all this danger and death was truly something. Hopelessness had not spread across the world, like Tyrion had feared it would. 

Plus the look on his brother’s face as he gazed at Ser Brienne had been something to behold. Tyrion had never seen that look on his face. Ever. 

‘It is true that Ser Brienne is to wed tomorrow,’ Tyrion said. He eyed Jamie cautiously. Any sign of sudden movement, and Tyrion would have to make a run for it. He had no doubt that his brother would seriously hurt him when he found out; but he’d like to avoid any possible injury. His brother might not be who he once was, but there was still a flicker of the old Jamie in there, who reacted to things without first thinking them through. 

‘And is it true that you have something to do with this?’ Jamie asked. ‘If I’m not mistaken, aren’t you still married? To the Lady Stark? What possible reason could you have for arranging Brienne’s marriage?’ 

‘To save our lives,’ Tyrion said quietly. A silence followed his words, and he wished the castle was a little less thick walled. He’d have liked to hear the good cheer of the feast. To know that the world hadn’t ended was something Tyrion liked to be reminded of as many times as possible. There was still much to face, and a foreboding he usually ignored had settled into his bones. He wanted to soak up as much joy as possible. 

‘And how -’ Jamie said, his face a mosaic of emotions before Tyrion cut him off. 

‘Cersei has sent Ser Bronn to kill us. Me and you. Using Joffrey’s crossbow. She’s offered him an awful lot to do it, and I have no doubt that if we fail to offer him something more, he’ll perform her orders. I don’t wish to lose my life, brother.’ 

Jamie stared at him, and Tyrion had to look away. Jamie’s eyes were just like Cersei’s. It wasn’t hard to image them hardening and filled with hatred and pain. Jamie had suffered as much as she had. ‘The Queen is not willing to let the cities she has acquired fall to the whims of a sell-sword. The Maid of Tarth is all I have to offer him.’ 

‘She is not yours to offer,’ Jamie said finally. 

‘She is not yours either,’ Tyrion said, softly. He didn’t need to see the shock fly across Jamie’s face. His brother liked to think he was good at keeping secrets, but he wasn’t. Everything he felt was always written over his face. You just had to know what to look for. 

‘I wasn’t claiming that she was,’ Jamie said. ‘But she is my friend, and I can’t accept that you think marrying her off to someone who has been sent here to kill us is a good idea. Not only are you treating her – and her island – like a possession, you seem to have no regard for her feelings on this matter. Tell me what did you offer Ser Brienne to go through with this wedding?’ 

‘Nothing,’ Tyrion said. ‘I told her that Ser Bronn was here to kill us, and laid out what I wished for her to do. In all honestly, I wasn’t expecting her to say yes. But she agreed.’ He hesitated a moment. ‘She seemed to think this was a good deal. She gets to wed, send someone home to Tarth to learn from her father. Someone who won’t make demands on her time, will let her stay out her vow to Lady Sansa. And,’ he winced before adding, ‘someone who might just be curious enough to one day help her produce the required heir for Tarth.’ 

Jamie’s expression got darker, storm clouds in his eyes. 

‘And she doesn’t mind sending Bronn to her father? Bronn, who is willing to slaughter and murder whoever as long as the price is right?’ 

Tyrion shrugged. 

‘When Bronn moves to Tarth, he will have everything he’s ever wanted. A wife that won’t care if he uses the brothels, a castle, a place far away from here. His skills will no longer be required. He can spend his days doing whatever he likes, perhaps sitting in on a few meetings so he will know what to do when the time comes. And when the time comes, and Brienne’s father sadly passes, Bronn will have the entire island at his hands. It’s more than anybody else could offer him.’ 

‘I can’t watch her marry him,’ Jamie said. He was so quiet Tyrion almost didn’t hear him. ‘It almost killed me to watch Cersei marry Robert, and...’ 

‘And you love Brienne,’ Tyrion finished. 

Jamie gave one quick nod, before averting his gaze. ‘I don’t think you were invited to watch,’ Tyrion said. His attempt at humour fell flat. 

‘I get this is hard,’ Tyrion said, crossing the room. He laid an hand on his brother’s elbow. He hated doing this – he couldn’t image how Jamie must be feeling about the whole thing. ‘But we have no other choice. We have to do this or lose our lives.’ 

‘One day,’ Jamie said. ‘Give me one day. I’m sure there’s someone here who can come up with something better.’ 

‘It’s too late,’ Tyrion said. ‘I took the offer to Bronn this evening, and he’s accepted. If we take it back, again, he’ll kill us. Probably not even for Cersei, but just because we broke another promise. And, I hate to say it, but Bronn has done a lot for us over the years. Maybe it is time we repay our debts.’ 

‘You already took him the offer?’ Jamie said. 

‘I didn’t have much time.’ Tyrion took a step back. 

‘This concerns me,’ Jamie said. ‘Don’t you think I should have been informed? That a man was here to kill me, would have been nice to know. I’ve been outside all day, in plain sight. I could have been killed at any moment. And no matter my feelings for Brienne, you knew we were friends. Don’t you think I had a right to know?’ Jamie’s words were getting louder. 

‘I did try to find you, but you weren’t as in plain sight as you think! And in all honestly, when we put this arrangement to her, Ser Brienne didn’t seem to think you’d have any issues with this. Or at least issues you couldn’t raise with her.’ 

‘She didn’t think I’d mind?’ Jamie said. Tyrion shook his head. ‘That stupid, ignorant...’ he mumbled more words to himself. If this was how Jamie talked around Brienne, Tyrion wasn’t surprised she had no idea how he felt about her. 

‘There’s no other option?’ Jamie said finally. 

‘I’m afraid not. The wedding is to take place tomorrow evening. We do this or we die.’ 

Jamie seemed to steel himself, before marching to the door. 

‘Please send my apologies to your Queen, brother. I will not be joining the feast tonight.’ Tyrion watched him walk away, sighing. 

With one more look at his empty cup, he followed his brother to the door. Downstairs there would be food and wine. If he was lucky, enough wine that he could forget about everything else for the rest of the evening. 

It was going to be on his brain the rest of his life. Might as well start trying to blank it out now. 

* 

One hallway away from Brienne’s room, Jamie stopped, bringing himself up short. He had been intending to march to her room, demand she speak to him, change her mind, all sorts of things he knew she would never agree to. She’d made a promise, a vow, an oath. Nothing he said would make her break it. 

He had to be smart. Change the habit of a lifetime, he though wryly. With one last longing glance down the end of the hall, he forced himself to turn back, an idea already forming in his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just listening to 'I know him so well' on repeat while writing this fic even though it makes me sad 
> 
> I am sorry about slow updates, but I'm currently writing two stories at the moment, and I want to make sure I give them equal attention...and make sure I finish them both :)

The dress was lovely. Brienne felt unworthy as she reached a large hand out to touch the soft fabric. Lady Sansa really had done a good job. 

‘It’s gorgeous, my Lady,’ Brienne said. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. Never mind that she was marrying for a deal, that she had barely ever spoken to her husband-to-be, that there was a niggling doubt worrying away in her stomach about weather she’d accepted this offer a little on the hasty side; she was getting married. She was going to wear this dress, and walk down an aisle. Someone would throw a cloak over her shoulder in front of witnesses. 

Brienne had given up on this dream a long time ago. She was to be the Maid of Tarth forever. She had accepted it, come to peace with it. 

‘Thank you,’ said Sansa. She’d brought the dress to Brienne’s room a little while ago, and both of them had stood staring at it in awe since then. There were bags under her eyes, and her hair was not as sleek and smooth as usual. ‘I wanted it to be perfect, since it’s the only thing you’ll let me give you.’ 

‘You have given me plenty,’ Brienne said. Sansa might not think so, but she had allowed Brienne into her service. Without that, she would have had to return to Tarth long ago, having failed to do her duty to Lady Catelyn. 

Having failed to live up to the promise she made to Jamie, who had handed her the tools she needed to do it. 

Her hand went automatically to her hip, and she longed to feel the smooth handle of Oathkeeper – but of course she hadn’t been wearing it around her room. Pod had taken it to his, to clean it of wight body, and splattered blood. 

She would have to return it, she realised. Jamie had told her it was hers, but even Brienne knew that once she was married wearing a sword gifted to her by another man would look wrong. A hollow hole carved itself into her chest. Oathkeeper had become her safety over the years. Parting from it would be hard. 

‘You saved my life,’ Sansa said. ‘And now you’re saving the life of my husband.’ Brienne hesitated, before bringing up her next words. 

‘You and Lord Tyrion...forgive me it’s none of my business, but you seem fond of him.’ A shadow of a smile crossed Sana’s face. 

‘There is too much more to worry about before I can even think about Lord Tyrion. I believe in the eyes of the Gods, we are still married. I have to respect that, even if I’m not sure how I feel about it. And to not do everything in my power to save him, would make me a terrible wife. I can’t allow that. I know what it’s like to be married to a terrible person.’ 

‘I should get changed,’ Brienne said. The sky outside was darkening, the clear blue of the North turning into a deep velvet, sprinkled with stars. It would be a beautiful night to get married. 

‘I’ll see you there,’ Sansa said. The wedding would take place in a small clearing just a little outside Winterfell. Brienne didn’t want it to happen where anyone could see, and her wish had been granted.

As Sansa walked past, she reached a hand to Brienne, giving her arm a small squeeze. 

The tears welled up in Brienne’s eyes, though she quickly scolded them away. She didn’t cry. 

But, with her father on Tarth, her mother and siblings all long gone, Lady Sansa – and Pod, she supposed – were the closest she had to family. Sansa might think Brienne had saved her life, but Sansa had given Brienne a home here. Even with the terror of the white walkers, and the war in King’s Landing that was brewing, Brienne felt safe here at Winterfell. 

With a firm shake of her head, Brienne stripped before pulling the dress on. It was silk, the material flowing around her like water, reminding her a bath from long ago which she quickly dismissed from her memory. 

Floor length – so much so, Brienne was afraid she might trip when she walked – the dress was simple. There was very little detail, just great tailoring, with the puckered waist line and the high collar covering the scars on her chest from a bear fight. She dismissed that thought too. 

The dress was a pale blue, and though Brienne knew nobody else would think it worthy of being a wedding dress, she herself, thought it was perfect. 

* 

The outside of Winterfell was deserted. Everyone was inside, having their supper, relaxing after another hard day of trying to restore the castle. Snow had started to fall softly on the grounds, tiny little swirling shards that seemed to pick up speed even as Brienne walked to the edge of the castle. Her feathered cape was thrown around her shoulders, and her walking stick slipped a little on the icy ground. She hated that she’d have to use it, but one step without it had proven agony, and Brienne had decided it wasn’t worth it. 

Ser Bronn knew what he was getting into. She was a little battered and bruised right now. He didn’t have to stay and help her heal. As far as Brienne knew, Ser Bronn’s travel to Tarth had already been taken care of – he was to leave for the ship this evening. 

As she came around the edge of the castle, Brienne almost walked straight into a horse that was waiting in her path. Startled, she put a hand to her chest, taking a smart step back when the horse reared. 

‘My apologies,’ she said to the man on the back. He was wearing a black hood over his face, his hands covered in black gloves. ‘I was lost in my own thoughts.’ She bowed to the man, then turned to leave, but was stopped as a note appeared in front of her. 

‘What is this?’ she said, but the man ignored her, inclining with his hand for her to read the parchment. 

She unfurled it, frowning at the scratches in front of her. According to the note, Lady Sansa had sent this man to take her to the wedding. The Lady had been worried about Brienne’s injury, and wanted to make today as painless as possible. 

‘Lady Sansa didn’t mention this to me,’ Brienne said, looking up at the man. He shrugged his shoulders under his plain black cape, waiting for her. After a moment, he hopped off the horse, and offered her his hand. 

Brienne supposed she couldn’t be too mad. She wouldn’t have let Sansa order someone to take her to her wedding, but she couldn’t deny she was grateful. The walk was already starting to take its toll and she’d been getting slower with every step. At least this way she could gather some of her strength back before the big moment. 

It was a little awkward getting onto the horse. The man took her stick and offered her his arm but even with his support it took her longer than it should have to hop onto the horse’s back. She turned her face away as the man leapt onto the front of the horse, hoping to hide her blushes. 

She blamed the dress. She knew she hated the things, and even though this one was easy to move in, it was still much harder to do everything than it was in breeches. In the end, she settled for sitting side saddle, telling the man not to go too fast. It was the only way she could not have her dress hiked up to her thighs, and she’d rather not wrinkle the gown her Lady had spent all night on. 

The ride was silent as they rode through the gates of Winterfell. The bodies and pyres had burned away to ash, and been covered in a fresh dusting of snow. From behind Brienne knew the castle still struck an imposing figure, even though half of it was destroyed. 

She tried not to think about the person she was leaving behind in the castle as she rode towards her fate. He hadn’t been to see her, and she knew by now Tyrion would have had to tell him Bronn was there, if only so Jamie could be on the look-out. 

The path leading out of Winterfell went to the left, and Brienne turned, expecting the horse to follow. The place she was to wed Ser Bronn should only be a few minute’s ride away. 

Instead of turning, however, the horse continued on its route straight ahead, even picking up speed. 

‘Ser,’ she called out, trying to get the man’s attention. If he heard her, he ignored her. The next thing Brienne knew, the horse was galloping away from Winterfell, gathering speed, taking her further and further away from the castle and where the wedding was to take place. She slipped an arm around the man in front her, just to keep from falling. ‘Ser, where are you taking me?’ she yelled. On instinct, she reached for her sword, cursing when she remembered she no longer had it. 

The horse was not going to stop. She had no means to control it, and if she moved her arm to aim a punch at the man, she’d fall off, right into the dirt below. 

Well. If she was going to fall off anyway.... 

Bracing herself for the impact, Brienne threw herself from the horse, trying to land on her feet and failing miserably. With a thud, she hit the ground, shock waves of pain radiating through her body. She imagined she could feel the wound on her leg reopen, even though it was so tightly bandaged she wouldn’t be able to see anything until she unwrapped it later. 

With slow, heavy breathing, Brienne pushed herself to her feet, staggering a little. She could see stars in front of her eyes – and not the ones in the sky. She just needed a minute. Then she’d make her way back to the party waiting for her, and ask who exactly Lady Sansa thought she’d employed. She'd be a little late, on account of how far the horse had taken her, and that she seemed to be without her stick, although she was sure she'd had it when she'd thrown herself to the ground. It would be around here somewhere. 

She was just about to set off, when the sound of hooves started again. She readied herself for a fight. Whoever this man was, he obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with. 

Even with no sword, Brienne was not going down without a fight. She’d do anything she had to win, and she was no slouch with just her hands. And feet. And mouth. 

The horse pulled to a stop in front of her, and Brienne who had been readying for a fight, looked up confused. The man wasn’t trying to grab her. Instead he slid from the horse, then walked around till he was standing opposite her. 

He wasn’t in punching distance, Brienne noticed. He’d stayed far away enough that she couldn’t reach him if she hit out. There was enough space that he’d be able to move out of the way. 

‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ she said, her voice ringing with an authority she didn’t feel. ‘But I assure you people will notice I’m missing soon and come looking for me. You will have the whole of Winterfell army on you soon, and the Lady Sansa will be none too forgiving.’ She couldn’t help thinking that maybe Ser Bronn would be on the lookout for this man too. She might not be a prize, but he’d stolen Ser Bronn’s wife-to-be. 

She didn’t expect he’d take that lying down. 

‘Lady Sansa has never really liked me,’ said the man, drawing a hand to his head and pulling on the hood that covered his face. Brienne narrowed her eyes. She knew that voice. ‘I think I’ll take my chances.’ 

With a quick tug the hood was off, and staring into Brienne’s shocked gaze was none other than Ser Jamie Lannister. 

‘Hope you’re not adverse to a bit of kidnapping, wench,’ he said. ‘Because you’re my prisoner now.’


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

‘Ser Jamie,’ Brienne said, shock in her voice. Even as her brain tried to catch up with what was happening – he was kidnapping her? For what purpose? - her eyes drank in his face. It had only been three nights since the battle, since she’d seen him last, but it felt longer. His eyes were tired, purple bruises forming under them from lack of sleep. The few scraps she could see seemed to be healing well, and he didn’t seem to be harmed any, not if his riding of the horse was any indication. 

‘Ser Brienne,’ Jamie said, a smile flashing across his face at the words. Brienne felt the little squiggle of excitement in her stomach at his words; she didn’t think she’d ever get over hearing her new title. 

‘What are you doing?’ Brienne asked now, her senses coming back to her. She tore her gaze from his face, frowning around at the forest they were in. ‘I’m supposed to be somewhere.’ 

‘Oh, I know very well where you’re supposed to be,’ Jamie said. He seemed to have decided that she wouldn’t punch him, since he took a step closer. Brienne was still considering it. What did he think he was playing at? ‘But I have no intention of letting you go.’ 

‘Ser Jamie,’ she said, dropping her voice. The darkening sky seemed like a cover, but she knew all too well that this forest had eyes and ears. If word got back to Ser Bronn that... 

That what? She asked herself. She still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. 

‘Can we drop the ‘Ser’, please?’ Jamie begged her. ‘It’s very formal and very tiring.’ He flashed another grin at her. ‘Very fitting for you, I know.’ 

Brienne looked at the ground. The Ser was there for her. So she remembered her place. She was nothing to him, just somebody who had done him a favour, who had vowed to follow through an oath he wanted to keep. Maybe they’d become a little closer over the years, but to just call him Jamie like they were friends... 

Well, it wouldn’t matter anymore, Brienne thought. She would be a married woman soon. That would certainly stop her from getting carried away. 

‘Jamie,’ she said, feeling her cheeks heat up. She couldn’t meet his eye, but she could practically feel his grin. ‘What are you doing?’ 

‘I told you,’ he said. ‘I’m kidnapping you.’ 

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘You said you knew where I had to be. Then you know I am to be married to Ser Bronn of the Blackwater at any moment.’ 

‘You can’t get married if you’re not there,’ Jamie said. ‘Even my brother can’t force you to marry another if you’re not in the same place.’ 

‘But we will be in the same place,’ Brienne said. ‘Because you’re about to take me back.’ 

‘You know,’ Jamie said, sitting himself on the ground and smiling up at her. ‘I really don’t think I am.’ 

She stared at him. 

And when he continued to smile up at her, she turned around and hobbled off to the edge of the forest, calling for the horse which had wandered away. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Jamie had come up behind her, and she walked faster, ignoring the pain in her leg. 

‘I’m going to get married,’ she said. She could see the horse now, sniffing around the roots of some trees. 

‘It’s sweet that you think so, but I promise you that’s not happening.’ 

‘Jamie,’ she said, not bothering to turn to him. He was following behind her, and even though she was walking as fast as her stupid leg would let her, she could tell he was casually strolling. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started to whistle, he seemed that at ease. ‘You have no input on this matter.’ 

‘Don’t I?’ He sounded surprised. ‘Having kidnapped the bride, with no intention of letting her go – at least not until I’m sure the wedding has passed anyway – I'm pretty sure I do have an input.’ 

‘You have not kidnapped me,’ Brienne said, scorn lacing her words. ‘You’ve merely delayed me from getting to the wedding.’ She pulled up short, and not just because she’d suddenly realised that she wouldn’t be able to climb on the horse. Not without his help anyway, and she truly believe that wasn’t going to happen. At least not right this second. 

There was no way she could walk. The wedding would be over by the time she got there. ‘You still haven’t explained why,’ she said. 

‘Haven’t I?’ he said vaguely, refusing to meet her eye. ‘I would have thought it was pretty obvious.’ 

Brienne just stood there. She’d been so caught up on getting to the wedding, that she hadn’t really stopped to wonder why he’d taken her. Her heartbeat quickened as fantasies flashed through her mind, but she quickly put a stop to those. 

‘I don’t think anything is obvious when it comes to you,’ she said, quietly. She’d been so sure of the person he was before they’d even met, only to have all her ideas and feelings about him change. He was the Kingslayer. 

Except he wasn’t, not really. 

He was going to go back to his life, and she would be left in the hands of those men, waiting and wondering when her last day would be, and what she’d have to endure before she got to it, her former prisoner forgetting about her; only for him to return, and to save her. 

He was going to honour his oath to Catelyn, no matter what he’d said before. He gave his word that he would let them pass out of Riverrun peacefully if she could do her part of the deal. 

He was loyal to his Queen, to his sister, to the woman he loved... 

And yet, he rode North and helped to fight the dead, parroting her own words to a room full of people ready to kill him. 

‘That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,’ Jamie said. He studied the snow flecked ground around them, and Brienne felt the blush in her cheeks, finding the ground very interesting too, all of a sudden. 

‘Jamie,’ she said. ‘You have to take me back. Ser Bronn...’ 

‘Would you just stop talking about Bronn for one second?’ Jamie said, scorn in his voice as he mentioned his old friend’s name. 

‘Jamie, if I’m not there, he’ll come looking. And he’ll find us.’ 

‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the big bad Bronn?’ he said, smirking. A familiar flicker pulsed through Brienne; the desire to hit Jamie. She’d become accustomed to it as they’d travelled back to King’s Landing; and it was good to still feel it now. It meant she hadn’t lost herself to him. 

Not completely. 

‘I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if I didn’t think I could beat him in a fight,’ Brienne said. She’d always said she would marry the man who could beat her; because she knew she was the best. Or at least one of them. Only a very few would get the better of her, and none of the best sword fighters would ever want to settle with someone as ugly as she. Which meant no matter how many men came to try and win her hand – and there hadn’t been many – she could protect herself. Protect her heart. 

Even though she seemed to have given it away, already.   
‘Jamie, I am begging you,’ she said, hating the way she sounded. But they’d been here longer than she would have liked; and so far, Jamie had not given her a reasonable reason as to why. Maybe it was a moment of madness, and now he couldn’t think of a way to get out of it, not without looking like a fool. ‘Please take me back to Ser Bronn.’ 

‘For someone’s who’s not afraid of him, you sound scared,’ he said. The horse walked back to Jamie's side, standing, waiting for them to climb on. He reached a hand up to stroke it, absentmindedly, waiting for her answer. 

‘We should get going,’ she said. 

‘I’ve told you, we’re not going anywhere. Admittedly, this isn’t where I pictured us waiting out the wedding. There’s a little clearing, I thought would be perfect to make camp. Hidden by trees, so nobody could find us. We’d stay there tonight. Come back tomorrow, when everything has passed. When Tyrion has had more time to think about some way to get you out of this.’ 

‘Your brother isn’t going to think of anything else,’ Brienne said. She started to pace, tiny steps back and forth, hating that every time she put her foot in front of the another a pang shot through her. But she couldn’t stand still anymore; plus the silk of the dress was clinging to the cold air, transferring it to her skin. She needed to do something to warm up. ‘I am the something he thought of.’ 

‘Tyrion just needs time,’ Jamie said. ‘He’ll think of something to get you out of this.’ 

‘I don’t want out of this,’ Brienne said. She saw the shock fly across Jamie’s face. 

‘You want to marry Bronn? Someone’s who loyal as long as the gold comes? Think of what he’ll do to your isle if someone offers him the right amount.’ 

‘He won’t need gold. He’ll have Tarth. It will be in his best interests not to ruin it. Plus my father’s people will be there. They’ll keep an eye on him.’ 

‘And what about everything else that comes with marriage?’ Jamie asked. Brienne stopped, her back to him. ‘Tell me, how do you plan to spend the rest of this evening? Tyrion seemed to think you weren’t expecting anything between the two of you to happen, but I know Bronn. He will expect the bedding – if only so that you’re tied to him, and can’t get out of the marriage so easily once he’s on the way to Tarth.’ 

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Brienne said. She hadn’t thought about that either. Pod had said Ser Bronn wanted to fuck her; would he really force her to go through with the bedding? 

He’d have a hard time. Brienne would fight him with everything she had, and she had no doubt that Lady Sansa and Lord Tyrion would have something to say about it as well. 

She remembered, with a sicking lurch the stories about Lady Sansa’s wedding night. She’d ask to have guards outside her rooms tonight. She couldn’t remember where Ser Bronn was staying, or even if it had been mentioned. 

The bedding had never been part of the deal. She hoped that Lord Tyrion had made that clear when he took the offer to Ser Bronn. 

‘Which part?’ Jamie asked. ‘The bedding, or making sure harm comes to your new husband?’ 

‘Either,’ Brienne snapped. ‘You know me better than that. I would never harm Ser Bronn. When we marry, he is under my protection. No matter what. I might not be the best wife, or the one anyone dreams of, but I will do what I can.’ 

‘I dreamed of you,’ Jamie said. 

This felt like something. A fragile wind that could be blown off course with the tiniest of words, or brushed away with the slightest movement. Brienne was suddenly afraid; not of being here, with Jamie. But of what this could lead to. 

Her dress brushed against her skin again, and she was reminded of why she was in it. Where she was supposed to be. 

What was at stake here. 

‘Ser Jamie, I need you to take me back,’ she said now, turning to him, her head high. She knew there was steel in her eyes and her voice. If he knew her at all – and she knew he did – he would do as she asked. 

Otherwise she’d do it herself. She’d do what needed to be done without him. ‘I have made a vow and I can not break it.’ 

‘You’re not the one breaking anything,’ Jamie said. ‘I am. And I’m okay with breaking this one.’ 

He wasn’t going to help her. That much was obvious. She started to hobble back in the direction the horse had brought her from earlier, her boots crunching over the powdery snow. Low hanging branches caught in her hair, and though she tried to avoid them she felt their scratches on her arms and legs. Her wedding dress was ruined, covered in mud, the bottom thick with slush. 

She huffed as she thought about how she’d explain this to Lady Sansa. She couldn’t tell them about Jamie’s involvement; they only needed one reason to turn him over to dragon fire. 

Even now, she would protect him. She wasn’t sure she knew how not to. She’d protected him since the moment she’d met him, trying to get him to King’s Landing safely. It seemed she would never be free of that instinct. 

‘Why is this so important to you?’ Jamie asked her. 

She was cold. And tired. And angry, and a bitterness was spreading through her. This shouldn’t be her wedding day, and she shouldn’t feel grateful that she was at least getting this. It really was the end of her dreams. 

‘Because if I don’t, he’ll kill you,’ she snapped. ‘He’ll kill you and your brother, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to stop that from happening. I can’t lose you, Jamie. I know I might never have you, not in the way I wish, but I can at least save your life. So please, if it’s the only thing you can give me, at least let me give your life.’ 

Fuck. She hadn’t quite meant to say that.


	8. Chapter 8

‘You know,’ Bronn said. ‘I don’t think the good lady is coming.’ Tyrion shifted a little, arms wrapped around himself. Standing outside Winterfell was not ideal and they’d been here for a while now. Ser Brienne should have been here already. The wedding should be over, the cloak Lady Sansa was carrying over Brienne’s broad shoulders, Tyrion back in his rooms, drinking and wishing visiting a whore house had the same appeal it once held for him. 

‘She’ll be here,’ Sansa said. ‘She gave her word, and that is not something Ser Brienne breaks. I know that more than most.’ 

‘Then where is she?’ Bronn asked. He gestured around at the white expanse of ground in front of them. There was nothing to indicate that anybody was approaching; no hooves on the snow-covered ground, no rustle in the trees as someone made their way towards them. Just silence. 

‘She might have been delayed,’ Tyrion said. ‘She is suffering from an injury after all. Perhaps she needed to change the dressing, or wait for whatever pain relief she could find to kick in.’ 

‘Or, maybe, she decided that you and your brother’s life wasn’t worth giving the rest of hers away for,’ Bronn said. Tyrion frowned at him. 

He’d had the same thought. He was sure that the Lady’s feelings for his brother ran deeper than anyone knew; but what would be the point of protecting him if she couldn’t be with him? And what was he to her? Nothing. An add on family member to a few people she knew. They’d barely even had a conversation before this week. 

The septon they’d secured was sitting with his back against a large tree, eyes closed. Tyrion thought he might be asleep, and didn’t blame him. Maybe if he went to sleep, he’d wake up and this whole thing would be a dream. He could be back in Casterly Rock, whores asleep next to him, his whole family alive and happy. 

Well. As happy as they’d ever been, which granted wasn’t much. And he couldn’t be sad that Joffrey had died. That was only good for everyone. 

Although, he mused, if he went to sleep, he’d probably be with them within seconds. Bronn wasn’t going to take this lying down, even though Tyrion had very little to do with this current situation. 

‘I’ve told you,’ Sansa said, the note of steel that was always in her voice now days hardening, ‘she will be here. She’s probably just been delayed.’ She glanced at the two men. ‘If you can promise not to harm Lord Tyrion while I’m gone, I’ll head back to the castle and find out.’ 

‘Let’s not be too hasty,’ Tyrion said. Sansa putting her faith in Bronn was too much of a gamble for him to take. He could be dead before she even reached the castle walls. And apart from the septon there was no one else around. Bronn could murder him and be on the way to find Jamie before... 

He sighed. ‘Jamie,’ he said. Bronn glanced around like he was expecting the one-handed knight to emerge from the trees. 

‘What about him?’ Bronn asked. 

‘He found out about our plans,’ Tyrion said. ‘Last night. We had a discussion in my rooms, and I thought I’d at least managed to make him see this was our only option. It seems I may not have got as through to him as I thought.’ 

‘You think your brother has had something to do with this?’ Bronn asked. 

‘I believe in Ser Brienne’s word. She would be here if she could. This has my brother written all over it.’ Tyrion shifted again. ‘Maybe we should make our way back to the castle and hunt him down. I have a feeling he will be with her. We can bring the septon back and have something small in one of the rooms of the castle.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘In front of a fire.’ 

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Bronn said. He stuck a finger in Tyrion’s face. ‘She’s to be my wife. I’ll find her. And you two will stay here. I don’t trust you not to have the guards on me as soon as I set foot in there to be brought in front of your Queen.’ 

Tyrion tried to protest, but Bronn wouldn’t let him speak. ‘She’s to be my wife. And if Jamie fucking Lannister doesn’t think I’m a serious threat, I’ll guess I’ll just have to show him, won’t I?’ Bronn strolled behind another tree, pulling the crossbow from behind it. 

If Tyrion had hated that thing before, he felt positively sick every time he saw it now. 

‘You can’t make us wait out here for much longer,’ Tyrion said. ‘We’ll freeze. And Lady Sansa has duties to attend to.’ 

‘Oh, aye,’ Bronn said. ‘You’re going to tell me that you’d both rather be in that wreckage of a building, having another meeting with the dragon Queen about how she’s going to defeat your sister? Cersei might have sent me to kill you, but I know you. Too soft for your own good. There’s no way you’ll want to see her dead.’ 

‘I killed my father and my lover,’ Tyrion said. It was just a fact now days, one of the first thoughts that ran though his head in the morning and the evening. It still sometimes caught him by surprise. That he’d done that. That he’d been capable of doing that. No matter what they’d done to him, both of them had once meant something to him. 

‘Aye, and I bet you’ve thought about it every day since. Like I said. Too soft. And don’t you deny it either,’ Bronn said, turning his attention to Sansa. ‘I can tell you like having the pressure off for a few hours.’ 

‘Don’t presume you know anything about me,’ Sansa said. ‘I can make your life very difficult Ser Bronn, even if you do end up on Tarth.’ 

‘And that’s why I won’t be going back to the castle,’ Bronn said. With that, he turned and marched into the trees, the sounds of him fading to nothing as the minutes went on. 

‘He is right,’ Sansa said. ‘I am enjoying not sitting in a room. It’s exhausting trying to think through several things at once and worrying about what’s best for everybody.’ She turned to Tyrion. ‘I don’t like your Queen. She won’t tell me of her plans for the North, and the stories about her using her dragons to bend people to her will doesn’t sound like she’ll be the peaceful Queen she’s pretending she will be.’ 

‘She’ll bring peace to the people,’ Tyrion said. ‘I know it.’ 

Sansa stared at him, and Tyrion started to feel uncomfortable under her gaze. She’d always stared like she could see straight through him. ‘I never thought I’d be here,’ Sansa said. ‘Not at Winterfell. But protecting a Lannister. Let alone two.’ 

Tyrion swallowed. ‘So why are you?’ 

It took a while for her to answer. 

‘I don’t want to see you dead. Your sister, yes. That would be no great loss to anyone, I don’t even think your brother any more. And I know you’ve made some bad judgement calls recently – people talk – but I still believe the kingdoms need people like you. People who care about them, not just about themselves. No matter how hard you might have tried to hide it.’ 

‘And Jamie?’ Tyrion asked. It was weird to think that Sansa might be allowing this to happen just because of him. Just to save him. The only person who’d treated him like that before was his brother. 

Like his life actually mattered. 

‘Brienne loves him,’ Sansa said simply. ‘She might not know it, but she does. A world where he doesn’t exist...she’d get over it, but she’d be changed.’ A ghost of a smile crossed her face. ‘I don’t want that for her. At least one person should get some form of happiness out of all this. And she deserves it more than most. She’s done a lot for me. This is the worst idea I can think of to pay her back, but it’s also the only way I can think of.’ 

‘Tell me, my lady,’ Tyrion said, an idea occurring to him. ‘Are you hoping that Ser Bronn might have an accident on his way to Tarth? We both surely know that once Brienne and Bronn are wedded she won’t even look at my brother.’ 

‘I said I wanted her to be happy. I still don’t trust your brother. Cersei has a hold over him that I’m not sure can be broken. Not for long anyway. I don’t want Brienne to be with Ser Jamie, although if it happened, I would grant her what she wanted. But I don’t want her to have to be alone if he turns out not to be the person, she thinks he is, either.’ 

‘She’s very lucky to have you,’ Tyrion said. The ghost of another smile was fleeting. ‘As am I.’ 

Their eyes met for a second before each of them turned away. It felt like the moment they shared in the crypts, where they both grabbed their weapons and went to war together to protect those people down there with them. 

It felt, for the first time for a while, like they were part of a team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one week? What is happening? This is almost kind of finished, at least on my end, and my goal is to have it all uploaded by the end of the month. We'll see how well that turns out. 
> 
> Plus this chapter was only really a filler. It's the next chapter you have to be prepared for :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I lied last time about having it all uploaded by June. I think the next chapter is going to be the last one, but I'm still working on it, so we'll see. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

‘You can’t lose me?’ Jamie said. He looked like he had the time she’d shouted ‘fuck loyalty’ at him. Like he couldn’t quite process what he was hearing. 

Brienne’s face was flaming. She was usually so good at concealing her emotions. At shoving them so deep down inside that they couldn’t come loose, no matter how hard he tried to prise them out of her. ‘You can’t have me – at least not in the way you wish? What way do you wish, exactly?’ 

She kept her mouth shut. She didn’t owe him anything. He was the one who’d brought her here. She was supposed to be a married woman right now. Admittedly, one who would be doing the duties to her lady rather than her husband, maybe wondering when she’d next see him as he sailed off to her homeland. 

But she’d never done what was expected of her. And look at how that had turned out; she was guarding the person she wanted to. She was a knight, a dream so ridiculous she’d stopped telling people that was what she wanted when she became an adult. They laughed at everything about her; she wouldn’t let them laugh at her words, too. ‘Brienne, you can’t say something like that and walk away. Don’t you think I have a right to know?’ 

‘A right to know my feelings? No. I don’t think you do.’ 

‘If they’re about me?’ She started to march off again, cursing internally with every step. She was going to have to let Pod take Sansa duty this evening – she'd need to rest thanks to the man behind her. ‘If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,’ Jamie said. He appeared at her side, his familiar heart-breaking grin on his face. She didn’t get to see that smug smile much. Not since the old days, anyway, and then it was usually accompanied by insults. 

‘I think I’ve heard enough of your thoughts on me to last a lifetime,’ she said. The snow was seeping through her boots. She hadn’t worn the thick ones, made to stand this weather, but rather the ones she’d usually wear around the house. Sansa had said they’d be some form of material rolled out for her and Ser Bronn to stand on. And it was only supposed to have been a short walk to the clearing where she was to be wedded. 

‘Not recently,’ Jamie said, thoughtfully. ‘Brienne.’ There was a hand on her arm, and she halted as if he’d frozen her. ‘Please. Look at me.’ 

Fine. If he was going to force her to do this, she would face it head on. She’d never been one to run away from a fight. 

And what did it matter in the long run? Cersei was still in King’s Landing, her shadow over everything here. She could practically see the Queen in Jamie’s eyes. She was constantly in his thoughts. Part of him, in a way nobody else ever would be. 

So, Brienne would just be a story they laughed over once he went back. She’d been sure she was that anyway, on their return to King’s Landing many years ago. The Queen would have bigger things to deal with than Brienne’s feelings. 

She lifted her eyes to meet Jamie’s gaze. Kept her head high under his questioning look. She felt like he studied every inch of her face, and she fought to keep her blush under control. Did he need to look at her broken more than once nose? Her lips that were too big and squashy? Her crooked teeth, her freckles? Did he have to remind himself of her ugliness? ‘If it helps,’ Jamie said, ‘I can’t lose you either. Why do you think I kidnapped you?’ 

* 

Brienne swallowed, and she jerked a step backwards. Jamie went with her, keeping his hand on her arm. He needed to touch her, to make sure she was here. To make sure she wouldn’t run off. 

He had a lot to tell her. A lot to say, and his heart beat faster with every second. She could leave him. Walk away, brush her hands of him, and settle into a new life with her new husband. 

But he had to try. That was the point of this after all. The time for jokes and playing games was over. 

That she’d confessed – at least Jamie thought it was a confession, it had sounded like one to him – first had surprised him. She was usually so perfectly controlled. 

He loved that he was the only one who seemed to be able to lift her emotions from her, riling her up till she snapped. The only one who could get under her skin. 

‘Don’t make fun of me,’ she snapped. ‘I can go back to hating you, quite easily.’ 

‘I hope not,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve had enough hate, I think. And I’m not joking, Brienne.’ He couldn’t stop looking at her. He remembered the first time he’d seen her – amazed at her height, at what she wore. At the stiff way she held herself, like she had to keep her posture at all times or somebody would call her out. He’d called her ugly. Mannish. Made several jokes about it, most of them to her face. 

She wasn’t a different person. But he couldn’t remember what he’d found so ugly about her. She was larger than life, that was true – but in a good way. A way that made him stand up and take notice. A strength ran through her, an almost tangible thing he felt he could reach out and touch. It might be true that the only remarkable thing about her face were her eyes – the astonishing blue of them – but he thought privately that given half a chance he could talk about her face for days. About the freckles that he wanted to count, about the nose that he wanted to ask for the stories of how it had been broken. He wanted to feel how her lips felt against his – they looked like they’d be soft, like a cushion for his. He wanted to know how they felt pushed against his skin. 

They were the parts that made up Brienne of Tarth. They spoke of her home, of the fights she’d won, of the cruel japes she’d had to endure. 

‘You have to be,’ she said now. ‘There’s no possible way someone like you could...’ 

‘Could what?’ he asked. ‘Could have feelings for you?’ She closed her eyes, and Jamie missed the blue. It felt like a clear sea when she looked at him, like the water they were the colour of was washing him of his sins. Cleansing his soul, almost. She looked at him, like she saw him and not the person he’d thought himself to be. The person he’d pretended to be for so long, it became truth. 

He felt clean when she looked at him. ‘I do.’ The words were whipped away by the wind, but he knew she’d heard them. She was staring at him again, doubt and fear written over every inch of her face. ‘Take my word for it. I wouldn’t kidnap just anyone to get them out of a wedding you know.’ Always the way. To resort to jokes, to try and lighten a situation. ‘I can’t give you an exact time. But you have my word. And my sword, which you wear at your hip. That you carry around with you every day. I told you it was yours. I wasn’t just talking about Oathkeeper.’ 

Brienne let out a steadying breath. The snow swirled down around them, coating her with a fine powder. Flakes clung to her hair, to the wedding dress she was wearing. A lump formed in his throat. He would never get to see her like this. Not for him. 

‘Even if all this is true,’ Brienne said softly before pausing. He knew what was coming. What word she would utter. ‘Cersei.’ 

‘Yes,’ he agreed. She was always going to be there. She was part of him; there was no use pretending that she wasn’t. That they weren’t flowers, who’d roots had grown twisted up with each other through the years. That to cut one down would damage the other. 

Although she hadn’t cared about when she’d sent Bronn after him, had she? He could picture it; her sitting on the throne, as Bronn waltzed in, to tell her the deed was done. She’d smile. But she’d leave soon, and cry for him. She might be a monster; she might not love him the way he’d always believed she had; but she did love him. He was sure of that. 

Just like he was sure of his next words. ‘I still love her; but not in that way. Not in the all-consuming, burning way I once did. She’s my sister, now. No more, no less. I’d still kill for her, and I’d still die for her; but in the same way I would for Tyrion.’ 

‘You can’t just fall out of love with someone,’ Brienne said. ‘You can think that you have because you haven’t seen them for a while. You can convince yourself that your feelings aren’t as strong as they once were, or remind yourself of all the horrid things they’ve done to try and lesson those feelings; but when you see them again, they’ll all come rushing back and you’ll remember all the good things, all the reasons you love them.’ She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he understood she was telling him about how she felt. How she tried to talk herself out of her feelings for him. How she couldn’t. 

‘I don’t need a reminder of all the things Cersei has done,’ Jamie said. ‘I feel the ache in my heart where Tommen’s name is. And as for all the good times; they are few and far between.’ He dropped his arm from hers. He needed to pace. He had to make her see. He’d spend nights on the road tossing and turning over leaving Cersei – but not because of leaving her. When she asked the mountain to kill him, the illusion that had kept him tethered to her for so long had shattered. 

‘Tyrion told me when I got here that I’d always known Cersei was a monster; and that I loved her anyway. It struck me how right he was. I knew what she was capable of; of killing or torture just to get revenge, or to get her own way. I thought it was brilliant; in a world where she’d grown up being told she could only be a wife; she’d found a way to be the most powerful player of all. She was hateful, and she turned that into control. After killing The Mad King everyone hated me. I felt I couldn’t tell anyone why I’d done it; and so, I became hateful too. I became even more of her mirror than I already was.’ 

The snow crunched under his boots, but he couldn’t hear it. His mind was filled with flashing images of Cersei, and Aerys, of Ned and Robert. ‘She was the only thing that mattered, the only thing I cared about; she was all I had in this world, and I had to protect that. And then everything shifted again.’ 

‘Why?’ he heard Brienne whisper. He wasn’t answering her, but rather continuing his story. It was good to finally lay everything out; to reveal his thoughts to the one person he trusted the most, to the woods that would whip away his truth as though it meant nothing. His words weren’t going to be carved into the trunks of the trees, or written in the snow; they’d be gone as soon as he said them. Nobody would ever hear them again. 

He didn’t think he’d be able to say them again, either. ‘I was taken. And then I met you. And you made me care about somebody else again for the first time in a long while. Wormed yourself into my brain, reminded me of the things I longed to be once. I needed to protect you. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. I refused to let myself think of why. I just knew I had to do it. I changed,’ he said simply. ‘She’s not the one who’s changed. She hasn’t become crueller since the children died. They weren’t the ones who turned her heart black; it was already that way. Maybe it got a little softer with the children, but with them gone there was nothing to keep her in check anymore. 

I wasn’t her mirror anymore, and not just because of this,’ he said, raising his right hand in the air. It lost its effect slightly since the gold was covered by a black glove. He hated the gold hand. It was heavy, and impractical. 

He still hated his stump more. ‘I was softer. Kinder. I cared about keeping oaths, and promises. For the first time in years, I wanted to be the Knight I dreamed about when I was younger. I wanted to be honourable. I’ve changed. I’m not the same person I was when I loved her. And, I don’t want to be. Not anymore. Even Bran Stark said I wasn’t the same person.’ 

‘I didn’t know you’d spoken to Lord Stark,’ Brienne said. The words fought through the haze in Jamie’s brain, and he turned to look at her. She’d wrapped her arms around her body, and he cursed himself. He might have been off in his own little world, talking about his problems, but she was standing there, frozen. He unfastened his cloak, marching back to her and throwing it around her shoulders. There was nothing to clip it onto, but she pulled it around herself and held the edges tightly. 

There were things about his past she still didn’t know about. Things he had to tell her. ‘On our first visit to Winterfell, all those years ago, the young boy Bran Stark caught me and Cersei in a tower. He could have told. The children would have died. Me and Cersei...well. It didn’t bear thinking about. We’d taken measures to conceal what we were for long enough. What did shoving a small boy out of a window matter?’ He hadn’t taken his hand off the cloak either, holding it with his left hand. ‘With all his new...wisdom, Bran knew I was coming. He was waiting for me in the courtyard when I arrived. Even after all these years, he didn’t tell anyone it was me. Seemed to think it was the reason he became who he is now. The reason I became who I am now.’ 

He didn’t want to look at her. She’d hated him when they first met. Because he was a man lacking honour. Who’d stabbed the man he was sworn to protect. But there had been a good reason for that; it would be much harder for her to forgive him the crippling of an innocent boy. 

‘I’m sure there are many things in your past you regret,’ Brienne said. ‘It’s how you feel about them now, that matters.’ 

He did look at her then, at this woman who was so strong, and brave. She hadn’t walked off and left him standing in the cold. She hadn’t spoken to him with words of anger, or called him stupid for things outside of his control. She hadn’t even called him an idiot for things he’d done in the past, things he’d chosen to do. 

She was accepting of those parts he hated about himself. A flame, so large, and so warm burst inside him then. 

She loved him; there was no other reason for her to still be here. And if someone as good, and as kind, and as honourable as Ser Brienne of Tarth could love him...maybe he wasn’t so hateful after all. ‘Just because you’ve done hateful things, it doesn’t make you hateful,’ she said softly. Her words were like the gently falling snow, covering him from head to toe. 

Then her words from earlier caught up to him. 

‘You think I’m going to go back to Cersei,’ he said. It wasn’t a question. ‘I’m not planning to. As much as my sister thinks it, I’m not stupid. The Dragon Queen will kill her.’ There was one more confession he needed to get out there. But she’d accepted everything else. Would she accept this too; this was the only thing he could change. By staying here, he was choosing not to act. Not to protect the innocent. ‘Even with the babe growing inside her belly.’ She didn’t move, her eyes still steady on his face. ‘You know,’ he said. 

‘People talk,’ she responded. ‘I’ve learned that around here gossip is rarely just gossip.’ 

‘It tears me up every night,’ he said. ‘I can’t stop thinking about the babe. But I don’t know there’s anything I can do. If I leave, before Daenerys, she’ll send someone after me. I could ask her to spare the babe’s life, but she scares me sometimes.’ He lowered his voice. Speaking ill of the would-be Queen was not a good idea, no matter if no one was around to hear it. Words travelled no matter how careful you were. ‘The way she looks sometimes reminds me of her father. There’s a saying, about every time a Targaryen is born a coin is flipped to see if they’ll end up mad.’ He was sure the saying was more eloquent than that, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember the exact words. ‘Cersei is enough to flip anyone’s coin. Even if Daenerys would risk keeping Cersei alive until the babe is born, she could change her mind at any moment. And maybe it’s best if this babe isn’t born.’ The fears he couldn't hide away from were ripped from him. ‘Look at what happened to the others; Joffrey was a nightmare, that’s its own issue, but none of them deserved to die. Not in the ways they did. If their deaths were our punishment for the sins we committed together, what would the Gods decide was worthy for this one?’ The tears stuck in his throat. 

This wasn’t going the way he’d thought; not that he’d really had a plan. The idea was to get Brienne out here, stop her marriage and force Tyrion to come up with another excellent plan that would save them. He hadn’t prepared a confession of love; was just kind of hoping that they’d fall into each other’s unspoken truths. He’d never done any of this before. Working for Cersei’s love was something altogether different, and he was always found lacking. 

‘I thought they might be why you’d ridden for Winterfell,’ Brienne said at last. She shook her head a little, the snow drifting down to the ground. Jamie couldn’t feel his legs any more, they were numb with cold. He wondered if the rest of the world was still going on; it was easy to image time had stopped while they stood here, carving out their own little place. Whatever happened, and his heart was still full of hope, even while his brain screamed truths at him, they would have this moment, and this place. He hoped she’d still come here sometimes and remember. Wherever he ended up, he’d try to come back. ‘To fight for them. For the living.’ 

‘I’m not sure Cersei is living any more,’ he murmured. His thoughts shocked him; did he really think his sister was ready for death? ‘She is waiting for death, I think.’ He realised that he did. That probably she’d been waiting for years. Maybe ever since Joffrey’s. She’d never been safe, always scared of being toppled from the power she’d crafted for herself. It was only going to end one way; with everything tumbling around her. ‘I always thought we would die together,’ he said. ‘But if I’d died during the battle, I would have died without her by my side. She could have died when the High Sparrow and his followers took her; probably would have too, if she hadn’t gotten to them first. So many ways over the years we could have died without each other. And then one would be left without the other. Even when I gave up on life after losing my hand; I wasn’t going to drag myself back to her, just to die by her side.’ Brienne had brought him back. Talked him back, injected him with a shot of something that had made him want to live. 

He wanted to live again. If he returned to Cersei, tried to protect her and their unborn child he would die with them. He knew that. Brienne knew that. Everyone knew that. 

And everyone was expecting him to go back anyway. 

He cupped Brienne’s face in his hands, till her eyes were the only thing he could see. The blue of her eyes made the snow clinging to her face look grey. The flakes melted fast, making tracks down her cheeks. She looked like she was crying. 

‘You’re right. I’ve done hateful things, but I’m not sure I’m a hateful person anymore. And I don’t want to be. I can’t be. Not when I’m filled with this burning love for you. There’s nothing hateful about that.’ 

He saw her eyes fill with tears then, and something inside him broke. This was it, he knew. There were no more words to say, no more promises to make. She’d made her choice, yesterday when she didn’t think she had any other. When his brother had kept him in the dark. 

He wasn’t sure he was ever going to forgive Tyrion for this. 

‘I swore to marry Ser Bronn,’ she whispered. He could feel her breathe over his lips. ‘I can not break that.’ His heart was breaking, as he stepped back, gently. He didn’t want to release her; but this had always been a pipedream. Him and Brienne had never had longer than a few moments together; not once they’d actually liked each other. There was too much history, too much crammed in the space between them. 

It wasn’t lost on him that while they could fight side by side, they couldn’t seem to fight their way to each other. 

‘And as much as I wish you could, I don’t think I can let you break it either,’ he said. He dropped his hands from her face, taking a few more steps back. His body was numb, but he wasn’t sure it was all from the coldness anymore. 

‘I wish I could too,’ she said. Their gazes hadn’t left each other, and he wondered if she felt like he did; like she had to drink all of him in before they said their final goodbye. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here, but he knew they were over before they’d even begun. 

‘I hate that this is how we’ve ended up,’ he said. He whistled for the horse, hearing it trot towards him. Their time was slowly closing around him, choking the life from him. Brienne had saved him life in every way possible; how was he supposed to live with her out of bounds? His sister would be gone, and with Tyrion firmly in the dragon’s den who knew what fate awaited him? 

‘We’ve never had the best timing,’ she said, through a laugh. His heart clenched. Brienne laughing was a sight to behold, and he wished he had more time to paint the picture in his memory. ‘I guess we were never meant to be.’ 

‘I could kill Bronn,’ he suggested. It was a thought he’d had quite regularly since yesterday. He knew Bronn’s fighting style. And he’d have something to fight for now. ‘Then you wouldn’t have to marry him.’ 

‘You wouldn’t.’ 

‘I would. I’ve done horrible things in the name of love before. Killing someone so my love doesn’t have to marry them is at least kind of honourable. Otherwise they’d be doomed to a loveless life.’ He reached for her pulling her close. The tension was dissolving around them, and the jokes were papering over the heartbreak threating both of them. Dissolving into a puddle of tears wouldn’t achieve anything now. They’d both made choices; now they had to face the consequences. 

‘You said it yourself, you’re not that person anymore,’ Brienne said as he settled her onto the horse. He took his hands away from her waist, feeling like they were burning. She’d probably felt like this for years; like she couldn’t or shouldn’t touch him. He’d belonged to someone else, and now she did. ‘You don’t need to be that person. Not for me,’ she said. He swung himself onto the horse, but didn’t move them right away. 

‘You wouldn’t love that person,’ he said. 

‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I only love good men.’ He closed his eyes, feeling her arm around his waist as she held on. 

He felt like he’d been trying to get back home ever since he’d been taken by the Starks. But when he’d returned, he hadn’t been the same person he was; he hadn’t returned home, just to a place he’d once belonged. He hadn’t been able to make himself fit back in, not in quite the same way. 

But as he started the horse moving, with Brienne of Tarth’s arm wrapped around him, her words ringing in his ears, he finally felt like he’d found his place again. Like he’d found his home. 

If only he could have it for longer. 

* 

They rode towards the clearing in silence. Brienne knew Jamie was keeping the horse at a slow pace and she wanted to be grateful for it. Grateful for him trying to stretch their time together, to delay their final moment. 

She’d rather get it over and done with now. Get on with the rest of her life. 

She’d had to say goodbye to Ser Jamie Lannister a lot. Sometimes just with a look. A few words. A wave. This goodbye would be harder than all of those. 

If Brienne wasn’t feeling so numb, she might’ve laughed. When she was younger, she’d dreamed about being a knight. Finding her true love. A man who was honourable, and good, who loved her for who she was and not what she could offer him in terms of Tarth. Not someone who her father had arranged for her to marry. She wanted her marriage to be filled with love. She wanted it to be true. 

She’d grown out of those ideas. And now it seemed like she could have them back, if only...if only. 

She’d never dreamed her love would be the handsomest man in the seven kingdoms. Or the best fighter. She’d never admit it to him, but the one time they had fought, even with him weak and out of practise he had held his own. He probably would have beaten her under different circumstances. 

He’d been able to hold his own in the battle of few days ago, even with only one hand. He’d saved her. He was worthy of her, and Brienne wished she could spend the rest of her days proving it to him. That he could prove it to himself, over and over again as he stayed by her side and helped reshape whatever the kingdoms would come to. 

Brienne came to, blinking at her surroundings. She knew from here the clearing where she was to be married was just a short walk. 

The horse had stopped, pawing nervously at the ground. 

She didn’t blame Jamie for not wanting to take her into the heart of the clearing. Tyrion, Sansa and Bronn would still be waiting for her, even with the sky overhead now dark, the stars twinkling above them. The full moon shone down on them, almost like it was lighting a path for her. Towards her future. 

‘I can walk from here,’ she murmured. With regret, she slipped her arm from around Jamie’s body. She was still wearing his cloak, holding it close to her body with her other hand, but she let it drop to the ground now, watching as it slowly drifted down. She’d be wearing another one soon enough. 

She couldn’t look at him as he lifted her down. He was gentle with her, hands on her waist, as her feet hit the snow. A rustling behind her, made her look around, but she couldn’t see anything – creatures, she supposed. Warily she turned her head to the sky – although she was sure a dragon would make more noise than a rustle, it was still always best to be on the lookout. She wasn’t sure what the Queen was doing with her remaining dragons during the evenings. She doubted they liked the cold more than anyone who hadn’t grown up in the North did. 

Jamie hadn’t taken his hands off her waist, and she finally faced him. One last time. 

He took a step towards her, his body pressed against hers. She could feel every inch of him, the roughness of his clothes rubbing through the thinness of hers. 

‘What are you doing?’ she asked. His green eyes were staring at every part of her face, before they settled on her lips. 

‘I may be a good man now, even if the Gods are still deciding,’ he said, ‘but I've never been that honourable.’ His left hand left her waist, reaching up to cup her face and before he could move, before he could give her this, Brienne took it. 

She thrust her head forward, crashing her lips onto his, their mouths moulding together. His lips were rough, and chapped, his mouth warm on her cold one. His entire being surrounded her, and if Brienne thought she hadn’t lost herself to him completely, she had been wrong. 

She is his, she knows that now. No matter what happens between them, she will always be his. This version of Jamie who she chooses to believe in, who she couldn’t stop loving, no matter what may be demanded of her. 

She can feel in this moment, that he is hers too. No matter who calls to him, this moment will always be theirs, and only theirs. 

Their tears mingled with their tongues as he deepened the kiss, her body bent backwards, only the horse there to stop her falling to the ground. She trailed a hand up his back, to tangle in his hair. She wanted to run her hands through the golden locks, to feel him next to her. She has not been allowed to touch him for so long; this will be all she gets and she wants to make the most of it. 

If this is how it feels to be kissed, Brienne thinks, she is glad she hasn’t been before. She is sure this is all down to Jamie. Her heart thumps, and her breathing is heavy. Her body responds in a way she didn’t even know it was capable of, waking a fire she wasn’t even sure burned inside her. 

This was a kiss worthy of songs, a kiss to be remembered till your final day; and even after. This was the kiss to end all kisses, and she knew it. 

‘I’ll never get to give you anything else,’ Jamie whispered against her lips. ‘I at least wanted to give you your first kiss.’ 

‘I’ll remember it till the end,’ Brienne said back. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments more, letting his scent wrap around her. She never expected to have any of Jamie, let alone his love, so why was it so hard to say goodbye? To give up something she only ever thought she’d wish for. 

Another rustle in the trees behind them startled them away from each other. Brienne’s gaze flew to the forest behind Jamie – that noise was too loud to be from a creature. 

Jamie’s gaze stayed fixed to her face. 

His hands wiped the tears from her eyes, then slowly dropped back to his sides. 

‘It’s time,’ she said, her voice quiet. ‘Goodbye Ser Jamie.’ She has no idea where he will go from here; and she has no right to ask. He will not stay at Winterfell; that she knows. 

‘Goodbye, Ser Brienne,’ Jamie said. For one moment, a shiny, shivering moment, Brienne thinks about taking a step forward, taking him in her arms and carrying him off, away from this place, hell to whatever and whoever tries to get in their way. 

Instead she raises her head, nods at him, then turns her back to march into the forest. She hopes Tyrion and Sansa will not be too mad at her. That they will notice the tear tracks on her face and avoid questions, at least for tonight. She will owe them an explanation at some point. 

‘Oh, I wouldn’t go too far if I were you,’ said Bronn as he stepped out of the trees behind Jamie. There was a crossbow in his arms, raised straight at Jamie’s back. ‘You’re both coming with me.’


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! Thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! This was just supposed to be a one-shot, but because I wanted to get it up and running before the series ended, I decided to post it in chapters and it turned into this! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I've loved writing it! 
> 
> Also; there's a c-word bomb in here, and a lot more swearing than in previous chapters, because Bronn.

Tyrion could hear footsteps. More than one person by the sounds of it, and he straightened himself, glancing at Sansa beside him. She’d heard them too; she faced the pathway into their little clearing, uneasiness written across every line of her face. 

He almost didn’t want to know what had happened. If Bronn had caught his brother with his intended, Tyrion wouldn’t put it past him to shoot on sight. Maybe he was lugging Jamie’s body through the snow, right now, Brienne by his side, the crossbow now pointed at her. 

A wave of relief crashed over him as he saw his brother walk into the clearing, a thunderous look on his face. He’d never seen Jamie so angry. 

And, yet, so...resigned? There was something hidden behind the anger, a hopeless, lost look, Tyrion had only seen on his face the day Joffery died. He imagined he’d looked the same when Myrcella and Tommen had passed, too. 

Brienne was at his side, and she gave one short nod to Sansa as their eyes met. Bronn was behind them, the crossbow pointed directly at Jamie. 

Tyrion had to admire Bronn for that at least. Anyone else might be tempted to aim the weapon at Brienne, hoping that endangering a woman’s life would make everyone more compliant to their wishes. 

But, if he did that, he obviously knew Jamie would charge him. Brienne wasn’t one to let her anger get the better of her; she would do as Bronn wished to ensure Jamie’s survival. 

‘Please accept my apologies for the delay,’ Brienne said, once the small party had made its way into the clearing. She bowed to her lady and then to Tyrion. ‘I was mislaid on the way.’ Her voice shook a little, but she stood up, hands clutching the lion’s head on her sword, eyes fixed straight ahead. 

‘We did wonder,’ Tyrion said. There was a beat of tension; nobody seemed to know what to say. 

To hell with it. This situation couldn’t get much worse. ‘We came to the conclusion that my brother might have had something to do with it. I can see we were right. How delightful; I’m not becoming as dumb as I feared.’ He smiled at them, watching as Jamie’s scowl became deeper. 

Tyrion was desperate to know what had happened between Jamie and Brienne. They were keeping their bodies rigid, seeming not to want to touch the other, and they both stared straight ahead, like neither was even aware of the other next to them. 

But Brienne’s dress was muddy, and ripped, and there were tear tracks down her cheeks; Jamie’s hair was mussed like something – or someone – had run something like twigs – or fingers – through it. 

A moment of excitement leapt in Tyrion’s chest; could it be? Had they finally both pulled their heads out of their own self-loathing, and fears and confessed to each other? Was he finally going to see his brother happy and for a good reason? 

But then Bronn cleared his throat and reality came crashing down around Tyrion again. This wasn’t a happy ending story. This was nothing but pain, and misery. The best they could hope for was to avoid death. 

‘I found these two just outside,’ Bronn said. ‘Kissing like there was no tomorrow.’ Tyrion’s heart leapt again, although he tried to keep a smile off his face, and his brain from chanting tall jokes at him. He’d never get to tell them to Jamie. 

A flush crept up Brienne’s neck, and she gave another small nod to her lady, as though to confirm Bronn’s statement. Her lips were pulled tight together like she was trying to stop herself from talking. 

‘There isn’t,’ Jamie said. His voice shook. ‘At least not for us. You’ve made very sure of that.’ 

‘Aye,’ Bronn said. He walked past them, coming to stand between Tyrion and Sansa instead, not dropping the crossbow, keeping it aimed at Jamie’s chest. ‘I knew you wanted to fuck her.’ 

‘I’m not sure you can boast about that,’ Tyrion muttered. ‘I’m pretty sure everyone’s who’s been in the same room as them knows that.’ 

There was a delicate snort to his right, before Sansa cleared her throat. 

‘We have much to do tomorrow, and we’ve been here for quite some time. Let’s get on with the wedding or shoot the crossbow; my patience is wearing.’ 

Tyrion would have to pull her aside later and ask her not to ask a mad man who’d been paid quite a lot of money to actually murder him or his brother. There were some things you just shouldn’t risk. 

‘Aye,’ Bronn said. Brienne walked forward, chin held aloft, leaving Jamie behind her. Jamie’s eyes were glued to her back now, and Tyrion wished he would turn and walk off, or something; it wasn’t going to do him any good, to watch this. 

Bronn turned to Tyrion, the crossbow dropping to his side. ‘I want Highgarden. And a seat on the small council. Don’t care which one, you can pick.’ 

‘What?’ Tyrion asked, turning to him. There was shock and confusing written on everyone’s else faces too. ‘Highgarden?’ 

‘Aye, you deaf fuck,’ Bronn said. ‘I’m sure the Tyrell’s kept it in perfect condition. No offence,’ he said, turning to Brienne. ‘I would fuck you, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not the marrying type. And sailing to an island where I’ll have to pretend to be your loving husband to your father everyday – well, that seems like a lot when I can just stay here and run things how I like. Plus, travelling to Dorne were the most boring weeks of my life, and I don’t fancy repeating the experience.’ 

‘Lady Olenna will be turning in her grave,’ Brienne said, almost to herself. Bronn’s words were settling around everyone, although no one seemed to have taken them in fully yet. 

‘But it is her grave,’ Bronn said. ‘And unless you want your love to end up the same way, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.’ 

‘Don’t talk to her like that,’ Jamie said, taking a few steps forward till he was opposite Bronn. ‘I ought to kill you.’ 

‘I’d like to see you try, you one handed fuck,’ Bronn said. He turned to Tyrion again. ‘As delightful as it is trading insults with him, I still need your word. Highgarden and a seat on the small council at the end.’ 

‘I think Queen Daenerys might have something to say about that. She has a lot of people who she trusts around her,’ Tyrion said. Highgarden. And a seat on the small council; it wasn’t asking someone to give up the rest of their life. It could work. 

‘And I’m sure they’ll be able to use their skills to other positions in her court,’ Sansa said. ‘Bronn would make an excellent Master of Coin, don’t you think?’ 

There was an almost mocking smile on her face. Tyrion knew she liked the idea of Bronn running King’s Landing into the ground with his budgeting, but if anyone could persuade people to pay their debuts it would be Bronn. 

‘I’ll speak to her,’ Tyrion said. ‘I’ll persuade her,’ he added hastily. ‘Nobody seems to know who’s in charge of what currently, and if she can give away Storm’s End to Robert’s bastard, I’m sure she won’t mind giving Highgarden to you.’ She didn’t want Tyrion dead; Highgarden was a small price to pay. Apparently she'd given Storm's End away last night, legitimising the boy in front of everyone. He'd heard people whispering ideas, wondering if they could get away with claiming to be distinctly related to some high family that had all been killed. They'd have to ask Bran Stark to keep an eye on that. 

A seat on the small council was also a small price. Once it had been granted, if Bronn put a foot out of place, he’d be a dragon’s dinner as soon as he stepped outside. 

‘Nice doing business with you,’ Bronn said. He dropped the crossbow on the ground, then started walking away from them. ‘And don’t fuck me over again, Tyrion. If anything goes wrong, I’ll slit your throat without even giving you a chance to explain.’ 

He stopped by Brienne. ‘You’re much too good for this fucker,’ he said, gesturing towards Jamie. ‘You’re also much too good to be married to me for life. But still. If this goes tits up, you should send me a raven.’ 

‘Thank you for the offer,’ Brienne said. She softened a little. ‘Thank you for not marrying me. Can I ask what changed your mind?’ 

Bronn shrugged. ‘I overhead you two back there. It made even a black hearted cunt like me feel a little teary eyed. I don’t know many good people but I think you four are four of the best. There’s been enough unnecessary bloodshed and murder even for my taste. I just want a simple life, in a castle, people to do my bidding, girls to suck me off. I never wanted a whole bloody isle.’ 

‘Well thank you,’ Brienne said, although her face was a little scrunched up. Bronn was a little too blunt for her. 

‘I’ll still murder them if I’m not in Highgarden by the end of the war,’ Bronn promised. 

Brienne nodded. ‘I’ll make sure they uphold their vow.’ 

With that, Bronn turned and left the clearing, the crossbow left on the floor, his footsteps the only proof he’d been there. 

‘What’s going on?’ asked the Septon. Tyrion almost jumped; he’d completely forgotten about the man who’d been sleeping against a tree all evening. ‘Is there to be a wedding or not?’ 

‘No,’ Tyrion said. ‘The wedding is off.’ 

‘Well,’ Jamie said, taking a step forward. He pulled Brienne’s hand into his, staring into her eyes. 

Before he could open his mouth, Sansa spoke. 

‘There is to be no wedding here tonight,’ she said, her voice ringing with the authority she possessed. ‘Thank you for your service. If you would like to stop at Winterfell for something warm to eat or drink, just tell them the Lady Stark sent you. You will be well provided for.’ She smiled, and they watched as the Septon made his way back to the castle, grunting under his breath. 

‘You don’t trust me,’ Jamie said. 

‘I swore to never trust a Lannister again,’ Sansa said. She wasn’t looking at him; rather at her sworn sword. ‘And I don’t intended to break that promise. I know you mean well – at least for now. I know whatever you’ve said to Ser Brienne must indeed have been enough to persuade her. And I trust her. I said it before; if she trusts you, then so do I. But it’s been not even a full night since you two have talked about your feelings, and I won’t let a marriage happen. Not tonight, while everyone’s emotions are still high.’ 

Brienne nodded, and though a wave of sadness passed over Jamie’s face, he gripped Brienne’s hand more tightly. 

‘I will spend my life showing you that I am worthy of Ser Brienne,’ he said. ‘No matter where we end up.’ 

‘I hope to be proven wrong,’ Sansa said. 

‘In that case, I request your permission to stay at Winterfell,’ Jamie said. Brienne’s eyes flew to his face, searching. ‘While Tyrion and the rest ride back to King’s Landing, I would like to stay here. With Brienne.’ The way he said her name sounded like a caress. 

‘You have it,’ Sansa said. She stepped towards the couple, but spoke directly to Brienne, ignoring Jamie. ‘I wish you the happiness you deserve, Ser Brienne. I hope you will be back to your duties as soon as your leg is healed.’ 

‘Of course, my lady,’ Brienne said, bowing to her. She straightened and looked at Jamie. ‘I dare say if we were to marry without Pod in attendance, he would be most upset. The only reason he’s not here is because he respected my wishes.’ 

‘We should all go back to the castle. No doubt you two have a great story to share with us, and we could all also do with something warm before bed,’ Sansa said. 

‘I have a horse,’ Jamie said. ‘You two ladies should take it back to the castle. Me and my brother can walk.’ 

Sansa assessed him, then nodded. ‘We shall see you both soon.’ 

Jamie helped Brienne onto the horse, his hand lingering on her waist for longer than Tyrion thought necessary before sending them and the horse back to the castle. They watched it get smaller and smaller, before they started their journey back. 

‘You’re happy?’ Tyrion asked. The snow crunched under their feet, the trees rustled their leaves above them. 

‘I am,’ Jamie said. ‘I have a lot of issues to work though, I’m aware of that. But I’ve made my choice. And I’m happy with it. I will spend the rest of my days proving to everyone – myself included – that I am worthy of Ser Brienne.’ 

‘I’ll expect an invitation to the wedding,’ Tyrion said. The castle was coming into view now, although it was still looked small from this far away. ‘If I survive, of course.’ 

‘The Queen will try her hardest to make sure you’re not in danger,’ Jamie said. ‘I feel sure of it.’ 

Tyrion raised a brow. ‘The Queen? Have you given up on our dear sister so easily?’ 

‘I will always love Cersei,’ Jamie said; there was an urgency in his voice. It was important that Tyrion understood. ‘As I should always have done; as my sister. But I made a promise to fight for the living; and for the first time in my life, I think that means fighting to protect myself. I don’t want to die.’ 

‘All things considered, neither do I,’ Tyrion said. He tried to think of his future; of marrying another woman. Maybe an heir or two. Watching the Seven Kingdoms thrive under their new Queen. 

In a few years, he might even go back to Casterly Rock. Jamie would have enough on his plate with Tarth. 

They stopped for a moment to watch as a great shape took flight behind Winterfell, the dragon swooping over the ground, before diving down again. There were more fights to fight. More battles to win. 

There would be more deaths to mourn in the coming weeks, Tyrion knew. 

But as he and his brother started their short walk once again, a smile on Jamie’s face that Tyrion had never seen before, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. 

Whatever happened, at least they would have tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with the ending, and I wanted to stick to a realistic ending as much as I could, so I wrote this one, but just know; there was another idea where Arya, Bran, Pod, Jon and whoever else I would have thought of turned up in the clearing to see Jamie and Brienne get married thanks to one of Bran's visions! 
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading!


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